Carryin' the Banner in Disguise
by Fox Da Newsie
Summary: Tiger's one of the toughest newsies around. His secret: he's actually a girl. After befriending the Manhattan Newsies, Tiger tries to keep anyone from knowing. But after confused feelings, curious newsies and an old enemy returning, will someone find out?
1. The Runaway

Carryin' the Banner in Disguise

Chapter 1: The Runaway

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Disney is lucky enough to have that pleasure. I just use these wonderful characters for my own amusement. Tiger and other Newsies you have not heard of are mine. If any Newsie happens to have the same name as another Newsie that wasn't in the movie but in another story, it is pure coincidence. I'm sorry.

A/N: Sorry for these long intro but I wanted to introduce myself. Hello, I'm Fox and this is my first Newsie fanfiction (but not my first fanfiction overall). I've been writing this story for awhile and I now just decided to post it for all you lovely people to see. Let me know what you think by REVIEWING. No flames please, but compliments and constructive criticism are nice.

Now onto the Story!!

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In the rough, busy streets of 1898 New York City, a small figure was moving frantically, swiftly moving its way through the streets, barely colliding with people on the way. If anyone looked closely enough, they would see that this small figure was actually a young boy, dressed in stiff, working-class clothes, running from a group of men dressed in similar clothes as he was in.

As the boy ran, he could hear the sounds of the men's boots pounding behind him, giving the boy the clue that they were catching up. Running faster, he ignored the sharp pain in his side and his feet practically screaming in pain due to the boots that he had learned to despise, along with other things. Memories of long, dark nights filled with beatings entered his mind, distracting him from his task.

Shaking his head of these things, he ran into a crowded market, hoping that the men could not follow.

When he broke through the crowd, he suddenly saw an alley not far away. He quickly turned in, diving behind a pile of trash in a corner, glad for the convienent darkness that the alleyway supplied.

Catching his breath, the boy closed his eyes, his ears closely listening for any familiar sounds of movement of people, silently praying that no one would find his hiding place.

Not long after he caught his breath, he heard the sounds of boots running come close and come to a halt near the entrance of the alleyway.

"Stretch, check in dat alley foah Tigah," a man's voice said. "Dat bastahd couldn't have gone fah."

"Tigah ain't no idiot, Tank," 'Stretch' answered. "Dere ain't no way 'e would choose ta hide in an alley."

The hidden boy opened his eyes, his bright blue eyes adjusted to the dark. He saw the group of men standing only a few feet from his hiding spot, arguing about whether or not to search the spot.

"Awlright," 'Tank' finally called out. "Let's awl jes' see if 'e jes' kept runnin'."

Soon, the group of men ran out of the entrance and out of sight.

'Tiger' smirked at the sight. '_Morons,' _he thought, rolling his eyes.

After waiting a few minutes to see if anyone was coming back, he climbed out of the abandoned garbage, pulled out a small sack that he concealed in his somewhat baggy clothes, and opened it.

Inside, there was a pair of brown trousers, a brown cap, a baggy white shirt, and beaten-up brown shoes. Looking at the familiar sight, he smiled and began stripping down to almost nothing.

If anyone had come along at that time and looked in the alley closely, they would have seen the boy reveal a secret that he had kept for so long:

That this "boy" was none other than a girl.

Fixing the tight binding that strapped what small breasts she had to her chest, the girl slipped on the clothes and shoes quickly, glad she had not grown since the last time she wore them, which felt like a lifetime ago.

After getting fully dressed, she searched throught the sack and pulled out one last precious item: a gold pocket watch with a matching chain. Smiling softly, she quickly kissed the cover before putting it in her pocket.

Throwing the boots into a corner, the girl put the discarded clothes into the sack and hoisted the sack over her shoulder. She picked up the brown cap and placed it on her short, boyish looking dirty blonde hair and hesitantly stepped out of the darkness and into the bright sunlight, her eyes burning from being used to the alley for too long.

She looked up and down the sidewalk, making sure that the men were nowhere nearby.

Seeing that the coast was clear, she slowly walked down the sidewalk, her eyes darting back and forth.

_'Come on, Tiger, relax', _a voice in the back of her mind said. _'You'se dun dis a million times befoah.'_

"But I nevah got dis fah befoah," she quietly muttered to herself.

Although her plan worked out better than she hoped, Tiger was still nervous that she would be discovered and sent back. She reached in her pocket and felt the coolness of the circular piece of metal in her hand, hoping it would comfort her in any way.

Taking a deep breath, she mustered up her courage and continued to walk down the street, the sounds of New York concealing her every step.

Short, I know! But that's just a little chapter that HAD to be in there. It'll get longer and better, I promise. Please review! Fox


	2. Meetin' Cowboy

Carryin' the Banner in Disguise

Chapter 2: Meetin' Cowboy

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, blah blah blah. I own Tiger and others you've never heard of.

--

Tiger's POV

It's been two days since I escaped and I still keep wondering if anyone was looking for me. Being paranoid as I was at that point, you could imagine my suprise when I was walking down the street and all of a sudden, these two guys came up to me. They looked somewhat presentable, with the bowler hats and such, kinda like the guys I've had to deal with in my life, with the menacing looks on their faces to match.

"'Ey, wheah ya goin', kid?" The smaller guy of the two sneered, obviously trying to scare me. "Goin' ta find ya liddle street rat friends?"

The larger one with a mustache cracked his knuckles. "You a newsie, kid?"

Looking up, I stared at the larger one square in the eye. "Maybe I am 'n maybe I ain't," I shot back. "What's it to you'se two anyways?"

"It's ah job ta look out foah street trash."

I smirked. "Well den maybe you'se two should look in a mirrah 'n I'm suah dat chyou will be able ta find it."

The two glared at me until something caught the smaller guy's attention.

"Well, look what we'se got heah."

Quickly snatching something off of my side, the guy held the object up to my face for me to see. I almost gasped when I saw what it was.

"Ya might not be a newsie, but I bet dat you'se a thief," he said, dangling the gold watch in my face.

I tried to grab it but he held it out of my reach. Damn my shortness. "Gimme it," I said, desperately reaching for it. "Dat's mine."

Ignroing me, he went on. "Ya know what we do to da thieves dat we find?"

"Ta da Refuge wid 'em," the bigger guy finished, sneering.

My eyes widened and before I knew it, I tackled the guy holding the watch to the ground. I punched every part of unprotected flesh I could find, not caring what the other guy was doing. After a few good punches in, the guy I tackled hit me right in the jaw, knocking me over. The bigger guy then picked me up like I was nothing and held my arms behind me in a iron-grip hold.

The smaller guy got up and I had to suppress a laugh. The entire right side of his face was black and blue, contrasting with the actual color of his skin. I somehow split his right eyebrow, making blood drip down his face.

Wiping it off, the guy then punched me in the stomach, making me double over in pain. Although I was trying to kick the guy behind me, my tries were proven worthless. The smaller guy began punching me in the stomach and face, leaving me dazed and unaware of what was going on.

As if by magic, I felt myself being let go by the guy behind me. I fell to the ground, barely having the strength to get up. From what I thought I heard, something showed up that got the two guys scared. The sounds of punching and grunts from fighting registered in my mind. Struggling to sit up, I blinked out the blood that was dripping into my eyes and focused on what was going on around me.

Another boy, looking around the age of 16-17 with a red bandana around his neck, was fighting the bigger guy that had held me while a smaller Italian-looking boy, not looking older than I am, had the smaller guy that had been punching me pinned to the ground already.

Struggling to my feet, I tripped the bigger guy, sending him sprawling. The two quickly got to their feet and ran in the direction that had come from, dropping the watch in the process. I slowly went over and pocketed it, a trumphiant grin on my face.

I turned to the two boys that helped me. "T'anks."

The kid with the bandana nodded his head at me. "It ain't no problem, kid."

"Yea, it's awlways a pleasuah ta soak da Delancey bruddas real good now an' again." The other boy said, reaching in his vest pocket, pulling out a cigar and putting it in his mouth.

I slowly registered what he said, still a little dazed. "Delancey bruddas?" I asked. "Who ah dey?"

"One a da newsie's woist enemies," the boy replied. "Dey try ta make trouble but dey ain't nothin' but sewer scum."

I nodded. Then, it clicked in my head. "So you'se guys ah newises?"

The two nodded. "Carryin' da bannah," one joked.

I smirked. "So whatta yer names?"

The boy with the cigar held his hand out to me. "Racetrack Higgins."

I shook his hand. "Nice ta meet ya."

The bandana boy spit in his hand first before holding it out to me. "Somes cawl me 'Cowboy' an' uddas cawl me 'Jack Kelly' at chyer soivice."

I spit in my hand and shook his. "Nice ta meet cha, Cowboy."

Cowboy nodded. "So you'se got a name, kid?"

I stayed silent for a second, wondering if I should tell him. Even though they did help me, I just met them and I didn't want to risk anything. I decided to play it cocky-like. "I gots lotsa names," I replied, crossing my arms, eyeing them both.

Cowboy laughed. "'ey you'se a cocky son of a bitch, aren' cha? I like dat, means you'se got smahts."

I smiled. "I've been told."

Race looked at the ground and saw the neglected sack that I dropped when I talked the smaller Delancey brother. "'ey," he said, picking it up. "Dis youahs?"

I nodded and took the bag from him. "I'se been livin' on the streets foah a liddle while, lookin' foah a place ta stay."

Racetrack and Cowboy looked at each other. It seemed like they were passing ideas to each other because they both smiled at the same time. "'ey kid," Cowboy said, looking back at me. "You wanna become a newsie? Da pay ain't much but about enough foah a place ta stay an' some decent food every day."

I nodded. "Suah, why not?"

"Awlright, we'll take ya ta da Lodging House," Cowboy continued. "Kloppman, da guy dat runs it, is a real nice guy an' da boys are awl like a family so it ain't dat bad."

"Awlright, let's go," I said, excited to actually get a decent place to sleep and something to eat for once.

Cowboy turned to Racetrack, who was busy lighting the cigar in his mouth and then taking a puff. "'ey race, make suah 'e don't die or anythin' awlright?" He looked at me. "Any kid dat stands up ta da Delancey's ah friends ta us."

Race took the cigar out of his mouth and saluted Cowboy with it. "Suah thing, boss."

Wiping the remaining blood off my face, I soon became less undazed and walked with the two down the street.

"So what did the rats cawled da Delanceys soak ya foah?" Cowboy asked, pulling a cowboy hat that she had not seen until now off his back and onto his head.

"Toight I was a thief."

"Ah ya?" Race asked.

I looked at him, slightly angry. "A coise not!" I exclaimed.

Cowboy put his hand on my shoulder calming me down. "'ey, calm down, 'e was jes' askin."

I nodded. "Sorry, I jes' don' like bein' accused a tings."

Race laughed. "Who does?"

I smiled and then thought of something. "So you'se guys get nicknames durin' yer time a soivice?"

The two nodded. "Race got 'is cause 'is poimanent spot is at da Sheepshead Racetrack."

"An' Cowboy got 'is cause da guy's obsessed wid cowboys," Race chimed in.

"'ey, I'se gonna move out ta Sana Fe an' den I'll be a real cowboy so you'se can keep ya mouth trap," Cowboy jokingly said, lightly pushing Race.

"Suah ya ah," Race replied, taking another puff on his cigar.

I laughed, entertained by these guys. I liked them already.

For the rest of the walk, they talked about stuff that they probably usually talked about every day: girls, best spots to sell papes, girls, other Newsies, girls.

After awhile, we finally arrived a two-story slightly rundown, brick building with a sign that read _Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House_ at the top.

Just looking at it I could tell that it was built because Governor Black felt bad for "the poor, working-class boys of New York City".

"Well, it ain't much," Race said, throwing his finished cigar into the street. "But it's home."

"Foah now, anyway," Cowboy added.

After looking at the building for a second, I turned to the two and smirked. "Well, let's go."

With that, me, Racetrack and Cowboy walked up the small staircase and through the door to the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House.

So, what'd you guys think? Getting a little better, huh? I decided for the Lodging House to be slightly rundown so I had it "built" by Governor Frank S. Black. Roosevelt became Governor on November 8, 1898 and this story begins around September of 1898. A little fact for you guys. Now...Review, please! Fox


	3. Scabber?

Carryin' the Banner in Disguise

Chapter 3: Scabber?

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, I do own Tiger and any new Newsies that appear in this fanfiction. Go me!

A/N: Yeah, I know my story seems a little boring and all that but I have some great stuff coming up! I would like to thank KingofChicago for reviewing. In response to your suggestion: Thank you but I already have something planned out. I don't exactly plan on giving away all of Tiger's past in one chapter. A little predictable, wouldn't you think? ;) But just for you, I added some information in this chapter that I was going to keep hidden until a later chapter. So, I dedicate this chapter to my first (and hopefully not last) reviewer!

--

As Tiger, Jack and Race entered the lodging house, the scene before them could not be described any less than chaotic. Sounds of loud boys cursing, fighting and running greeted the three, the two wiser newsies seemed unreactive to what madness was occurring. Instead, Jack and Race seemed to be right at home with it.

Walking through the hallway and into a small room ahead, Tiger surveyed her surroundings. Muddy footprints decorated the creaky, wooden floor while second-hand furniture that appeared to be either broken or close to had been pushed to corners, appearing as an attempt to make room for a large amount of people.

To Tiger's left, she saw a worn-down, narrow staircase that had probably been trampled on for more than just a few years.

Race looked at her. "So, whattaya tink?"

She nodded. "I like it," she replied, fixing the position of the sack she had placed on her shoulder. "'Sides, I'se seen places woise den dis so it ain't bad."

Before Race or Jack could respond, it almost sounded as if a clap of thunder had rolled into the lodging house. Footsteps could be heard coming from all over the place as boys were anxious to do something fun after a morning of work. Groups of rowdy boys of all ages swarmed the room, filling the earlier empty places.

"Dat's Mush, Blink, Pie-eatah and Snoddy," Jack called over the loudness in the room, pointing to faces in the crowd.

"Aw Cowboy, 'e can loin deah names latah," Race replied, seeing the overwhelmed look on the new kid's face.

"Awlright, jes' take 'im upstaihs so 'e can clean up a liddle."

Race nodded and taking Tiger by the arm, lead her upstairs through the slightly crowded stairwell and to a nearby door. "Heah's the washroom," he said, leading her through the doorway.

Tiger looked around to see this new area. The loudness from downstairs was slightly muffled due to the door being only slightly ajar, so she wasn't feeling as overwhelmed as she had only a few seconds ago.

Abandoned clothes laid unforgotten on the cracked, dirty tiled floor, the room smeeling slightly of dirty boys and sweat among other things, probably due to the bathroom stalls that lined a wall. Walking through the slight mess and walking around the makeshift tubs, she reached one of the sinks that were in a row in the middle of the large room. She looked in the mirror, inspecting the damage.

_Just a few scratches, not worth anything to even worry about, _she thought, turning on the tap and splashing some water on her face, washing away the dirt and blood that was the result of the earlier fight.

After washing her face, she used her shirt sleeve as a towel, put down the bag of clothes that she had still kept on her shoulder and opened it up to look at it. _Why the hell did I even keep these clothes ta begin with? _she thought angrily to herself. _I gotta get rid of these somehow._

"What's awl dat?" Race asked, leaning against the side of the mirror.

She looked up, closing the bag. "Ah, nothin', jes' some clothes," she replied, not wanting to sound suspicious. She tossed him the bag. "Heah, do what chyou want wid 'em."

Race smirked and looked at her. "Why ah you givin' dis ta me?"

She shrugged. "Outta kindness? I dunno I jes' don' want 'em."

Race nodded but didn't open the bag. "Dat was a helluva fight you put up back deah aginst dem Delancey rats," he said, changing the subject to Tiger's relief. "Ya gotta name?"

"Like I said," she replied, leaning against the sink. "I got lotsa names."

"Ya mind tellin' me one?"

She shrugged, looking nonchalantly in the mirror.

Race shook his head and took out a cigar, lighting it with the swipe of a match. "Ah ya at least from annudah burough?"

She looked at him, smirking. "Ya know wheah I could get some food? I'm stahvin'."

"Awlright, awlright, I tink deah's still some bread left ovah from dis mornin'," he said, taking a puff on his cigar. "It's downstaihs I tink."

Throwing the sack over his shoulder and holding his cigar in the other hand, Racetrack and Tiger left the washroom and walked through the bunkroom, to the stairs that would lead them back downstairs.

"Uh, ain't chya gonna leave da bag on yer bunk oir somethin'?" Tiger asked as they walked towards the stairs.

Race shrugged, oblivious to Tiger's sudden nervousness "I'll do it afta we getcha some food an' you sign in wid Kloppman."

"Kloppman?"

"Yeah, 'e owns dis place."

Heading back towards the chaos that was the first floor, the two walked down the creaky stairs and back down to the scene, walking through the crowded hall.

Race stopped and pointed to a curly-haired boy sitting on a chair, obviously telling a group of small boys a funny story based on his exaggerated hand motions and the laughter that came from that direction. "By da way," Race said. "Dat's Crutchy, one a da newsies dat's been heah da longest."

Tiger nodded and looked at the boy. "'e a crip?" she asked, looking at the crutch that leaned against the chair next to him.

"Yea, but 'e don't want no sympathy 'cept when sellin' papes."

She nodded again. "'ow'd 'e get dat way?"

He shrugged, taking a puff on his cigar. "No one really knows, but no one messes wid 'im 'cause 'e's a good newsie an' Cowboy'll soak 'em if dey tried."

"Trust me, I won't," Tiger replied, looking around. "So, wheah's dis food dat chyou was tawlkin' about?"

"Go upta da desk an' da old guy wid da bowlah hat on is Kloppman," he explained. "'e'll getcha ta sign in wid ya name an' 'e'll give ya some leftovah food an' 'e'll expect ya ta woik tomorrah so you'se can pay boaid an' awl dat. I'll take ya sellin' an' teach ya da ropes."

Tiger gave a nod and smirked. "Awlight," she said.

Walking over to the desk, she quickly snatched Race's cigar out of his hand and took a puff. "Da name's Tigah, by da way," she said, slightly laughing.

"'ey!" Race exclaimed. "Dat's my cigah!"

Tiger turned around, putting the cigar in her mouth. "You'll steal annudah!"

Race rolled his eyes. "Wiseguy." he muttered.

Putting down the sack, his curiousity soon got the better of him so he opened it.

Inside, there was a almost brand-new looking pair of trousers, a crisp white shirt, a black-and-white striped vest and a black tie. It didn't really look like anything could fit him, even though it looked like he and Tiger fit into most of the same clothes. _Dis stuff musta been huge on 'im,_ he thought, looking through it.

"'ey Race, what's awl dat?" A voice asked, interuppting his thoughts.

Race looked up. "Oh hey, Skitts," he said. "I'se was jes' lookin' trough dis stuff."

Skitter looked into the bag. "'ey, what ah ya doin' wid scabbah clothes?" he asked.

Race looked confused. "Scabbah clothes?"

"Yeah, you'se can definitely tell dat no newsie weahs stuff like dat 'cept da ones dat woik foah a higha oiwfice."

"Yeah?"

Skittery nodded. "If I'se was you, I'd get rida it," he said, walking away. "Dun' wanna be coight dead in crap like dat."

Race gave a nod and looked across the room, at Tiger. _Could 'e be?... _he thought. Then, he saw Tiger strike up a conversation with Skittery and Kid Blink.

He shook his head. "Nah, if 'e's a scab, den I'se a monkey's uncle," he muttered to himself.

Walking out of the lodging house with the bag, he threw it in the nearest trash can he could find.

"Good riddance," he said, walking back inside, wiping imaginary dust off his hands, as if the clothes had filth on it.

"'ey, who wants ta play 'Red Hands'?!" he exclaimed, closing the door.

--

What'd you think? Review please! Fox


	4. One of Us

Carryin' the Banner in Disguise

Chapter 4: One of Us

A/N: Wow! 157 hits in a few days! I'm pretty happy about that! I would especially like to thank huffle-bibin for reviewing all the chapters. Thank you for liking my story so much! I like for readers to be curious. Now, this next chapter didn't exist until I decided to not jump from the first days to a few weeks later like I intended. So enjoy! D

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I do, however, own the newsies that do not exist in the movie (Tiger, any new characters, etc.)

--

After a slightly uncomfortable night sleeping in the same clothes she had on the day before, Tiger quietly got out of the bottom bunk she had been sleeping in, making sure not to wake up any of the guys that were snoring loudly around her. Putting on her cap and shoes, she quietly walked to the washroom located in the next room.

Washing up, she noticed footsteps in the other room. Shouts of names and groaning soon followed afterwards. _Probably Kloppman waking them up, _she thought, drying her face.

Her suspicions were right. "Sell the papers! Time ta wake up!" Kloppman's voice continued to exclaim.

Smirking and rolling her eyes at the sounds of the sleeping and cranky guys, she quickly finished and walked back into the bunkroom, yawning and stretching with the rest.

"'ey, new guy," Kid Blink called out, rubbing his good eye. "How come you'se up so eoily?"

She shrugged. "Habit, I'se guess."

It was out of habit alright, but mostly so no one caught her changing and was able to rat her out for who she really was. But she decided to leave that little piece of information out for obvious reasons.

Kloppman noticed her and grinned. "Now dis is one fella I'se prolly ain't gonna woiry 'bout."

Jack jumped down off of his bed and grabbed his cowboy hat and bandana. "'e's sellin' wid Race tahday so dat's prolly all gonna change," he said, hitting Tiger's arm jokingly as he passed by.

Race rolled out of his bed, obviously half-asleep. "'ey!" he exclaimed, pulling a cigar out of a tin can next to his bed. "I'd soak ya foah dat if it woin't true."

Laughter could be heard in the room as more boys got up and got ready for the day. Tiger walked over to the bed she had been occupying and grabbed her vest off the table right next to it and shrugged it on over her untucked and wrinkled white shirt, pulling her baggy trousers up at the same time. _I knew I should've grabbed some suspenders but there was no time._

Suddenly, something flew over her head, making her duck in surprise. When the object landed on her bed, she looked to see what it was. It was a pair of red suspenders.

"Toight chyou might need 'em," a voice on the other side of the room called out.

Race, who was near Tiger, turned in the direction of the voice. "'ey Mush," he said to a dark curly-haired boy. "If you'se givin' away stuff, you should give somthin' to yer ol' pal ovah heah."

'Mush' laughed. "Maybe some othah time but 'e looked like 'e might need 'em."

Tiger turned to Mush and nodded at him in acknowledgement before taking off her vest and quickly attached them to her trousers and fixed them to her liking. After putting her vest back on, she looked at the boys around her. They were about done and ready to leave for work, messing around with each other and obviously not that sleepy as they were when they woke up only a few minutes ago.

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. "So listen, since you'se new an' awl, I'm gonna spot chyou some papes," Racetrack explained, walking with Tiger over to the other boys. "An' since I'se told chyou dat I'll let ya sell wid me tahday, me spottin' you some papes makes us pahtnahs."

Tiger looked at him. "You an' me, pahtnahs?"

He nodded. "Whattaya say?"

She thought about it for a second. "Awlright, it's bettah den sellin' by meself."

Race took his arm off her shoulders before spit-shaking to finalize their agreement.

Jack appeared beside the two as everyone practically ran out of the room and out of the lodging house. "Dat was a good choice, Tigah," he said, smirking. "Race heah is one a da biggest newsie cons in awl a Manhattan."

Kid Blink, Skittery and Mush walked with the small group, smiling at each other when they heard what Jack said. "Prolly one a da biggest newsie cons in New Yoik, in my opinion," Skittery added, pushing Race slightly to the side.

Race frowned, putting his unlit cigar in a pocket inside of his vest. "'ey, it ain't my fault yer jealous," he replied, elbowing Skittery.

"What's deah ta be jealous 'bout?" Kid Blink added, smiling.

Seeing his friend getting slightly angry, Jack waved his hand at the two. "'ey guys, lay owf."

The two shrugged before noticing Tiger walking with the group, quietly laughing at them. "'ey Tigah," Mush asked. "You evah sold befoah?"

She shrugged. "Heah an' deah," she said skeptically. "Why?"

"Jes' wonderin'."

With that, the 5 newises, along with the guys horsing around around them, finally arrived at the distribution center and got in line to buy their morning papers.

--

"Murdered coipse found on Coney Island! Maniac on da loose!" Tiger shouted in the crowded streets, glad that her first headline was mostly true, except that the so-called "maniac" was rather a drunk that was caught 5 minutes after shooting his victim.

Just from that headline, she sold about half of her 40 papers with a slightly impressed Racetrack watching her from his spot. He could tell that Tiger had sold papers before but watching her now, he saw that his new partner was doing better than she was acting when the other guys had asked her earlier. It probably also helped that Tiger had the "lost, little boy look" that made the elderly and mothers slip her an extra penny or two rather than be repelled because of the dirt and baggy clothes like some people usually were when they saw a newsie on the street.

Walking over to his new partner, Race put his arm around Tiger's shoulders, walking her away from the street. "'ey Tigah, now I know dat chyer good, but ya wanna try ta make moah money?"

Tiger nodded. "Whattaya want me ta do?"

Walking towards Central Park, Racetrack told his partner what he had planned but had never done due to the fact that he always sold alone. As they reached the paths that led into the park, Race had filled Tiger in completely of what his plan was. "You know what chyou gotta do?" he asked, stopping at the edge of Central Park.

Tiger nodded and Race gave her the papers that they had left over. "Now go and hawk some papes an' I'll come afta."

She entered the park and walked the path to the middle of the park, known for its crowds of people, even in the morning, and began to hawk the same headline as before, starting to attract a crowd. "Murderer on da loose! You could be next!" she exclaimed, having frightened people buy a few papers before she saw a familiar form walk over to her.

"'ey! Dis is my spot!" Race yelled, pushing Tiger to the ground.

Tiger scrambled to grab the papers that had scattered on the ground. "Please, I need ta sell dese papes!" she cried out, looking at the now towering Race above her.

"I don' give a damn!" he replied angrily. "Now, give me yer papes befoah I soak ya so hard dat chyer grandkids'll be black an' blue!"

Fighting to keep the papers in her hands, the two struggled back and forth before Race finally pulled the papes out of her hands and kicked the fallen newsie, running away and disappearing in the crowd.

Tiger, now paper-less, began to cry for her loss. "Now 'e's gonna beat me an' gonna make me stahve ta death!" she wailed, curled up on the ground.

"Excuse me, young man," a sophisticated older voice said. "What is the matter?"

Wiping away tears, Tiger looked up to see an elderly lady, obviously rich due to the expensive dress, the jewelry sparkling in the sunlight and fur-trimmed coat that she was wearing. "D-dat boy hit me an' s-stole awl m-me papes," she sniffled, standing up slowly. "N-now I hafta go b-back home an' me ol' man is gonna see d-dat I barely e-eoined any money an' 'e'll beat me an'-an' not let me eat again."

The lady gasped, putting her hand over her heart. "Oh, you poor thing," she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a few dollars and handing them to the distressed newsie. "Here, maybe this'll help you."

Tiger wiped her nose on her shirt sleeve and smiled. "T'anks, lady."

The woman nodded and went on her way, not before seeing to it that the crowd of people that had seen the incident occur donate some change to help out the now smiling Tiger.

She tipped her cap to the crowd and happily walked out of the park, pocketing the money for safe-keeping and looked around to see where her partner was now.

Selling the last paper to a businessman, Racetrack saw Tiger and walked over to her. "So," he asked, eager for what they got. "Did anyone buy it."

Tiger smirked. "Nothin' but a crowd full a suckahs," she replied, holding out some of the money she got.

Race smiled and steered Tiger in another direction. "Let's go ta Tibby's an' split dat money equally, alright?"

The two newsies walked down the street and into a small restaurant with a sign on it that said _Tibby's_ on the front, seeing familiar newsies eating sandwichs and other food that they bought with their morning's earnings.

Jack called them over to a booth he was sitting at. "So, how did Tigah do on 'is foist mornin' out?" he asked as the two slid into booth, both happy and hungry.

Race smirked. "'e's a boin newsie, alright," he replied, messing with his partner's cap affectionately. "Got moah off of a scam den we did hawkin' headlines an' I t'ink afta awhile, 'e could give ya a run foah yer money."

Jack laughed. "Oh really?"

Tiger shrugged. "What can I say? I'se a boin perfoimah."

"I'se 'tink we should cal you'se guy 'da terrible two'," the Manhattan leader said, eating the roast beef sandwich that he had ordered earlier.

Race looked at Tiger. "I don't t'ing I'se gonna have any problem wid dat," he said, smiling. "Whatta you t'ink?"

Tiger nodded. "Same heah."

As the restaurant filled with newsies happy with today's headlines and sharing stories of how much money they got, Tiger and Racetrack ordered their food and split the money that they made that day.

Tiger got her food and pocketed her share. "Y'know, Race," she said, fixing her askewed cap. "I t'ink dis is da beginnin' of a beautiful friendship."

"Me too."

As the Manhattan newsies joined the group, the two partners agreed and eagerly dug into their food, telling every newsie that they saw their successful scam, becoming the envy of their less fortunate friends.

Kid Blink laughed when he heard the story and jokingly punched Tiger in the arm. "I wadn't suah at da beginnin', but now I'se can see dat chyer one of us."

Mush agreed. "Welcome to da Manhattan Newsies, Tigah," he eagerly said, a huge smile on his face.

Looking at the boys around her, Tiger nodded, a smile on her face. "T'anks, guys." she replied, knowing that this was the first time in a long time that she was home.

--

(Ok, so that was a kinda cutesy chapter that I decided to add. Hope you liked it!) -Fox

P.S. Reviews make these little fingers type faster, telling you wonderful readers the tale of Tiger and her friends, the Newsies.

Please Review! 3


	5. A Strain

Chapter 4: A Strain

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, yadda yadda. I own Tiger and other Newsies that were not in the movie. You know my schpeel.

A/N: Thanks to huffle-bibin, othfanatic1004 and Silently Amused for reviewing. You guys are awesome! And I'm sorry I haven't updated! School stuff came up and I should be doing some work instead of writing this but I wanted to get this chapter up so here it is!

--

As weeks went by, Tiger settled quickly with the newsies, finally remembering just about everyone's names but she knew that the two who found her in her time of need, Jack and Racetrack, would be her favorites. She and Racetrack had soon adopted the nickname "The Terrible Two" because you wouldn't see one without the other and if you did, the other wouldn't be too far away and would most likely had a trick up his sleeve.

One day, after living close to a month with the newsies, Tiger, Racetrack, Skittery, Pie eater, Mush and Kid Blink were sitting outside of the boarding house after a day of selling, with the usual lousy headline, but Race and Tiger were able to sell their papers due to their "performances", shooting marbles.

Oblivious to their surroundings, Jack had just walked up to the small group, obviously had just finished selling his papers.

Racetrack finally realized he was there and looked up from the game to acknowledge their leader. "'ey Jack, how's it goin'?"

Mumbles of greetings could be heard from the rest of the group, still absorbed in the game, as they watched the marbles in the circle be hit by a certain person's marble and immediately shot out of the circle.

"'ey Race, Tigah, I'se gotta tawlk to you'se two foah a sec," Jack called out, taking off his cap and running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, looking distraught.

Tiger, oblivious to how worried Jack sounded, concentrated on her shooter marble that was positioned almost perfectly in front of the last marble. In a flash, the last marble shot out of the circle, resulting in the reamining newsies to groan and watch their prized marbles disappear into the smiling Tiger's small sack. She stuck the small bag in one of her pockets and stood up, straightening her clothes.

Putting his arm around Tiger's shoulders like a trainer with his prized fighter, Racetrack looked at the other boys proudly. "Sorry fellahs, it was a t'ree-in-one chance dat 'e could beat da pants oifa you'se guys," he bragged collecting money from the losers who bet against Tiger.

Jack shook his head. "Can I tawlk ta you two dopes, now?" he asked, looking at the two in frustration.

Tiger shrugged nonchalantly. "I t'ink we'se can spaih a minute foah ah leadah." she turned to Racetrack, "Whatta you t'ink, Race?"

Racetrack nodded. "Ya, I t'ink we'se can make time in ah schedule foah good ol' Jack heah."

The three walked into the lodging house and sat on a few beaten-up chairs in the main room, which at the moment was deserted.

Jack sighed and looked at the two. "Awlright," he said. "We'se got ahselves ina situation heah."

Seeing the serious look on Jack's face, Tiger leaned forward in her chair a little, listening intently. "What happened, Cowboy?"

"I toight you'se guys could tell me," he replied. "Did you'se guys soak some guy named 'Clash'?"

Puzzled, the two looked at each other. At the exact same time, they knew who he was talking about. "Oh yea.." the two said in unison.

Racetrack had crozzed his arms, a smug expression on his face. "'e had it comin' to 'im."

--Flashback--

_Racetrack and Tiger had just finished selling for the morning and walked into an alleyway, heading to the Manhattan newsies lunch place, Tibby's. Turning a corner, they saw a group of large guys, possibly almost adults from their height and large builds, hanging around, knocking stuff over, smoking and doing whatever to be annoying to the public but Race and Tiger paid no mind to them. Well, until the boys saw who it was._

"_Well, well, well," a tall, slightly less muscular boy with short dark hair called out, jumping off a few garbage cans to confront the newsies. "If it ain't ol' Race heah ta come an' visit us when we was jus' 'bout ta pay 'im a visit."_

_Racetrack shifted his weight, his face staying calm. "'ey Clash, I ain't see ya in awhile." _

_Tiger looked over to her friend, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as the other guys stopped and watched the confrontation, a sign of smug amusement on their faces._

"_Yea an' da last time dat we seen you you was in a real hurry runnin' oif wid awl ah money when ya lost dat bet down at Sheepshead," the boy said, cracking his knuckles, looking intimidating._

"_'ey, ya lost ya money faih an' squaih," Race replied, a slight smirk on his face. "It ain't me fault dat yer big apes lost." _

_Clash seemed to get a little angry. "It IS yer fault 'cause I didn' lose so bettah stop lyin' 'bout cheatin' me outta me money!"_

_Tiger looked at the angry boy. "If 'e said it didn' cheat ya, den 'e didn' cheat ya." _

_Clash glared at Tiger and then sneered when he saw how weak she looked. "An' who is dis, Race?" he asked circling her. "Yer bodygahd?"_

_She glared at him. "'is friend."_

_Clash rolled up the sleeves of his dirty once-white shirt, revealing muscles she didn't see before. "Suah glad," he said, looking at the other guys. "I would hate ta destroy a runt like yaself."_

_Tiger's hands turned into clenched fists at her sides, her anger starting to flare. _

_He gave the other guys a knowing grin and turned back to Tiger. "But if you insist." _

_All of a sudden, Clash's fist connected to Tiger's jaw, giving her reason to let her anger loose. She punched him in the stomach before tackling him to the ground, both of them swearing and rolling around in the dirt. Giving him a swift knee to the groin, Tiger was quickly on top of him, punching any unprotected flesh she could reach, the boys and Racetrack shouting and cheering at the sight. _

_Finally able to get up, Tiger kicked Clash in the stomach, leaving him defenseless and gasping for air. _

_The impressed Racetrack made himself known once again. "I'se suggest dat you'se guys bettah beat it outta heah befoah 'e gets nay angrier."_

_Still steaming but satisified, Tiger glared at the surprised group, wondering who would challenge themselves next. _

_Clash stood up, coughing and sputtering while wiping away some of the blood on his face, his head lowered to hide the huge bruise across his cheek and the cut he had on his forehead. _

_He motioned to the group. "Let's get outta heah," he said, catching his breath. "We'll get chyou guys lattah."_

_With that, the group ran out of the alley leaving the slightly bruised and dirty but trumphiant Tiger and her beaming friend alone._

_Fixing her slightly askew, but usual snug, cap and dusting off her clothes, Tiger turned to Racetrack. "Ready ta go?" she asked, as if nothing had happened._

_Racetrack shook his head, still smiling, and jokingly punched Tiger in the arm. "Yea, let's go ta Tibby's," he replied. "I'm buyin'."_

_And they walked through the rest of the alley to Tibby's. _

--End Flashback--

Tiger grinned at the memory and turned to Jack. "So whatta 'bout it?"

Jack didn't look amused. "Dat kid ya decided 'e ''had it comin''...is from Brooklyn."

"So?"

"So da King a Brooklyn's pissed dat chyou soaked one a 'is main guys."

Tiger looked confused. "I ain't nevah hoid a no King a Brooklyn," she practically exclaimed, standing up. "What does it mattah anyways?"

"It mattahs-" Jack started to say.

"'Cause if we lose Brooklyn's trust, we lose 'is cooperation," Racetrack interuppted, taking off his cap in frustation. "Makin' us lose da alliance."

Tiger glared at her friend, obviously angry. "Didja know dat Clash was from Brooklyn?"

Racetrack looked at the floor. "I didn' know 'e was gonna make a case a it ta Brooklyn."

"So I mighta ruined da alliance 'cause ya didn' t'ink 'e would tell 'is leadah?!"

"'e trew da foist punch, remembah?"

Her eyes widened. "'e did!" She looked back at Jack. "Can'cha tell 'im dat I was actin' in self defense?"

He shook his head. "'e wouldn' believe me."

"Why not?"

"'Cause 'e'll only listen ta da guy dat did it."

"So dat mean I gotta go tawlk to 'im?" Tiger asked slowly, not knowing what would happen.

Jack nodded. "But I'se comin' wid ya since 'e was wantin' ta meet cha tomorra mornin'."

Racetrack stood up. "An' I'se comin' too."

Tiger rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yea, ya bettah." She glanced at Jack. "So why do we gotta see tomorra mornin', anyways?"

"'Cause Spot's busy ta'night."

"Da King's gotta name?" she asked, clearly a little bitter.

"An' a tempa woise den you an' half a da Manhattan newsies combined so ya might wanna watch ya mouth 'round 'im." Jack warned.

She pretended to ignore Jack's warning but decided to put it in consideration. "So awls I'se gotta do is tell 'im what happened an' dats it?"

The leader shrugged. "If 'e believes ya."

Looking at her two friends, both full of confidence, she couldn't help but have a bad feeling that he wouldn't.

--

A/N: Review, please! I don't bite, I promise! ) -Fox


	6. Brooklyn

Chapter 6: Brooklyn

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, it is owned by Disney (the lucky bastards...).

A/N: AHH! I'm sooo sorry I haven't updated. I have chapters written out on paper but I haven't had time to type them up. School is the culprit. Please forgive me! Oh and the italicized stuff are flashbacks. And thank you to all my reviewers. You guys are the shiznit. Yeah...so onto the story!

Tiger's POV

Tossing and turning in my bunk, I kept thinking of this "Spot" and what he was like. I kept picturing this huge guy who could snap my neck in an instant. Besides, what kind of guy is called, "Spot"? Probably bad news. I have met men like this but let's just say that I wasn't exactly anticipating our meetings. For one of the few times in my life, I was scared. What if the ties between Brooklyn and Manhattan were strained?

"_Spot Conlon is one a da most best an' most feahed newsie in awl a New Yoik," Blink happened to mention to me after the boys heard of the meeting. _

"_Yea," Skittery added. "Ya musta really pissed 'im oif."_

_I gritted my teeth in annoyance. "'ow was I supposed ta' know dat Clash was from Brooklyn?"_

_The group shrugged._

_I felt a large arm wrap around my shoulders and I immediately turned and saw Mush's innocent, smiling face. _

"_Dun' woiry, Tigah, yer one a da toughest guys I know," he happily said, looking at me. "Brooklyn ain't got nothin' on ya."_

_I nodded, feeling his infectious smile lifting my downed spirits. "T'anks, Mush."_

Thinking back on this, I felt some confidence restored, allowing me to fall into a dreamless sleep.

--

After what felt like a few minutes, I felt something shaking me, ripping me out of my sleep.

"Tigah, we hafta go see Spot," I heard Racetrack say, continuing to shake me.

Pushing his hand away, I slowly opened my eyes and sat up in my bunk. "What time is it?"

Race was leaning against the bunk next to mine, searching his pockets for a smoke. "'Round 6, I think."

I groaned and threw my pillow at him. "On a Sunday?! Yer mad!"

He chuckled and ducked the flying pillow. "Come on, we gotta straighten awl dis out," he continued, throwing my cap at me in response to the pillow.

I caught the airborne cap and stuck it on my shaggy blonde head, still glaring at him. "Alrigh'," I muttered, standing up.

"Ya know, I still dun' undastand why ya awlways sleep in yer clothes."

I looked down at my ruffled, dirty clothes and shrugged. "Guess dat I'se jes' used tah wearin' 'em awl da time."

Race rolled his eyes. "Whatevah."

After going into the washroom to wash my face, I followed Racetrack downstairs and into the lobby. Of course, it was deserted. "Cowboy comin' wid us?"

He nodded. "'e's da leadah," he explained, finally finding a cigarette and putting it in his mouth. "'e's gotta be deah."

Almost as if he heard his name, Jack came through the door of the lodging hous.

"'ey Cowboy, wheah ya been?" I asked.

He had his cowboy hat on, covering his eyes and giving off this aura of coldness. "Around."

Before I could ask any questions, Race spoke up. "Let's jes' go ta' Brooklyn, a'righ'?"

Jack nodded and silently walked out of the door he just came out of, heading towards the street.

"What's 'is deal?"

Race shook his head. "Nothin' ya need to woiry 'bout."

With that, he and I walked out of the door and caught up with Jack. As we began our walk to Brooklyn, I was prepared for anything. At least, I thought I was.

--

As we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and into Brooklyn territory, I kept wondering what was going to happen. I even began to think that this was some sort of weird dream and that I'll wake up and realize that this entire situation never happened. But as we got into the trashed streets of Brooklyn, I knew that this was no dream. Was he gonna soak me or something even worse?

I shuddered at the thought.

"_Jest remember, no matter how tough and big guys that pick on you are, you have the spirit to take on anyone if you put your mind to it." a deep manly voice rang out._

"_But Papa," a child's young, unsure voice followed. "How do you know?"_

"_Because," the man replied, laughter rumbling in his voice. "You're stronger than you think you are."_

"_Ok, Papa, I'll remember."_

As I smiled at the memory, Jack's voice rang out, interrupting my thoughts. "A'righ', we'se heah."

Looking around, I saw that we were at some sort of run-down building, like an old warehouse. Not suprisingly, me, Race and Jack were the only ones there.

I took a step forward and looked around. "So, wheah's dis King a Brooklyn I'se hoid so much about?"

An unfamiliar voice spoke up. "Righ' behind ya."

I froze, feeling as if I just had a bucket of ice water was thrown on me.

The voice coldly chuckled. "Ain't cha gonna let me see da face a' da guy dat soaked one a' me best newsies?"

Regaining my composure, I fixed my cap and slowly turned to the source of the voice.

Standing there was a boy who looked no older than 15 or even 16. I could see his dirty blonde hair peeking out of his cap, covering his eyes. But the thing that caught my attention was the black cane with a gold tip sticking out of his belt loop, resting by his red suspenders, ready to be drwan out like a sword.

Jack was the first to break the silence. "'ey Spot, whatta ya heah, whatta ya see?" he asked, spitting into his hand and extending it towards the boy.

'Spot' looked at Jack and spit-shook with him in greeting. "Jus' da usual, Jacky-boy," he replied, placing his hand around the tip of his cane. "'cept me boidies been choipin' in me eah dat one a yer newsies soaked Clash but good."

He fixed his glare on me, a light smirk appeared on his stony, expressionless face. "Dis da guy dat done it?"

"Yea, dat's da guy," aother voice spoke up. "'e's Race's bodygauhd."

Behind Spot, the bruised and battered Clash, along with a few newsies I saw with him last, appaeared from out of the building.

I saw Race's body tense up, his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes narrowed. "Ain't nobody me bodygauhd!" he exclaimed.

Spot put his hand up, silencing him. "I know 'e ain't, Race."

Race relaxed ad went back to his usual cocky self, fists unclenched and a slight smirk on his face.

"Da kid gotta name?"

"'is name is Tigah," Jack said, reprising his role as the leader of Manhattan.

The Brooklyn leader nodded. "An appropriate name from what I heah."

I remained silent, wondering what was gonna happen now.

"Why'dja feel like soakin' one a me own, Tigah?" Spot asked, moving his head, making his hair move out of his eyes, revealing the most piercing blue eyes locking my gaze.

Staying calm, I shrugged. "Since I'se hoid dat chyou got boidies choipin' at ya, I toight ya knew da whole story."

"Ya think I did but dey seem ta' be missin' pahts of it."

"Den yer boidies ain't much foah infamation, ah dey?" I asked, ignoring the warning glare that Jack shot at me.

Spot looked at Jack in amusement and then back at me. "Guess not."

"Since dat ain't me fault, do ya mind if we get along wid why I had ta' drag my ass outta bed at da crack a' dawn ta' come down heah?"

He smirked, making me feel like I was looking at a mischevious cat smirking at an unsuspecting mouse, for the smirk did not reach his stony gaze.

"Fight me."

"Pahdon?" I asked, shocked.

"I wanna see what chyou got an' see if ya really ah good oih if I gotta woik some some a' me newsies foah bein' weak."

I said nothing, staring at his cane, wondering if he liked to use it when threatened.

He followed my gaze. "I ain't gonna club ya, Tigah," he said, almost as if he was reading my thoughts.

"Ya sweah?"

"Cross me heaht an' hope ta' die."

"Come on, Tigah," Race said, making his presence known. "You'se ain't got nothin' ta' woiry 'bout."

Taking a deep breath and looking at the reassuring glances from the two Manhattan newsies, I looked back at Spot.

"Awlrigh', I'll do it."

What happened next is still a blur to me.

--

A/N: I know, I ended it weird. This chapter originally was almost 10 pages long so I decided to split it up. Review please! -Fox


	7. The First Rule

The First Rule

A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry that I took this long to update! Between school, moving, family drama and then not having access to a computer really delays updates. And in response to the last chapter, I know I cut it off weird. If I didn't, that chapter would have gone on for another 5 pages and I wouldn't have been able to have the last part of this chapter like I always imagined. Anyway, hope you forgive me and here is the chapter you guys have been waiting for!

--

_What happened next is still a blur to me_.

Probably because Spot punched me right in the face. I quickly retaliated with a quick right hook to his face and then his gut. If you think that brought him down, you must be crazy.

After only a few minutes of us fighting, I could barely see where Spot was because of all the blood spewing out of my nose and my left eye became too swollen to even open, let alone see out of. From what I could see, Spot looked bad, cuts and bruises from where I quickly punched him decorated his face but that didn't seem to phase him. Besides, he didn't look nearly as bad as I felt.

Ignoring the cheering and jeers from the crowd of Brooklyn newsies, I sprung forward and tackled their leader, pinning him to the ground with the punches I delivered to any part of him, uncovered or not. I didn't care anymore, I was desperate for this to end. But I guess I was winning due to the Brooklyn cheering got softer and I could hear Cowboy and Race loudly cheering me on.

Who would've ever thought that the King of Brooklyn was losing in a fight...to a girl?

But the last move...I didn't even see it coming.

Spot and I ended up wrestling in the dirt, each of us punching any flesh we could see through all the dirt clouds we were creating. Spot punched me in the jaw, sending me sprawling onto the ground. He then got up, pulled out his cane and picked me up by the front of my blood-spattered shirt. Dragging me along, he raised his cane as if to beat me with it, making me involuntarily cringe. Instead of that, he held me against the wall of the warehouse, his cane positioned long-ways across my neck, trapping me there.

"I toight you woin't gonna use ya cane, Spot," I mumbled, spitting blood out of my mouth onto the ground beside us.

He smirked, despite his busted lip that I happily gave him. "I said I wasn't gonna beat ya wid it, but it dun' mattah 'cause it looks like I win."

Then it hit me. He knew he was going to win. He probably let me get a few lucky punches in there to make me feel better about myself.

I glared at Spot in resentment.

He just put his cane back in his belt loop, keeping a firm grip on my shoulders.

"'sides," he added, his icy blue eyes meeting my angry glare, his gaze practically boring into my skull, "dis teaches ya 'bout da foist rule 'round heah."

I narrowed, or tried to narrow, my eyes. "An' what's dat?"

Spot leaned in very close to my face, almost like he was telling me a secret. "Da foist rule when bein' in Brooklyn: Dun' believe ev'ryting ya heah."

I continued to hold my glare, attempting to keep my composure.

Cowboy finally spoke up. "Alright, 'e got it now can ya let 'im go?"

"In a sec, Jacky-boy," Spot replied, not breaking his eye contact with me. "Jes' wonderin' why a newsie dat can fight like 'e can be wid chyou."

Although he was speaking to me, I answered. "'Cause dey was deah foah me when I needed it."

Spot smirked in amusement and turned to look at Cowboy. "Yer lucky dat ya found 'im foist."

Cowboy nodded. "'e can be Brooklyn material if 'e wanted."

"Now dat we settled dis, can ya let me buddy go so we can get outta heah?" Race asked, interrupting the two leaders conversation.

Spot let go of my arm and walked back to his group of newsies.

"'til we meet again, fellahs," he said, picking up both of our now dirt-covered caps off the ground and throwing me mine.

I caught it, dusted off the dirt as best I could and put it back on top of my short, shaggy haired head.

"Latah, Spot," Cowboy replied, spit shaking with the Brooklyn leader.

"Ya comin' tah da pokah game tahnight, Brooklyn?" Race asked.

He shrugged. "If I's ain't too busy wid tings."

Nodding, Race motioned for me to follow him and Cowboy.

Using my shirt sleeve, I wiped the blood off my face as best I could before walking away with the two. Before we were out of Brooklyn territory, I turned around for one last look.

Spot was standing alone, his hand lingering on his cane. For a second, I swear he nodded at me but he soon turned around and walked inside the warehouse.

Shaking my head, I turned back to Cowboy and Race.

"'ey Tigah," Cowboy asked, his cowboy hat still on his head. "Wheah'd ya loin to fight like dat?"

"Me faddah was a boxah when 'e was youngah an' he toight I should loin, too," I replied, my mouth involuntarily turned up in a smile. "Figahed I needed to know how ta' cause I was awlways small foah me age."

"Really?" Race asked, obviously interested. "Did 'e win any big fights?"

"Yea, but dat was a long time ago, befoah I's was even boin," I said. "'e gave up boxin' when 'e got really hoit in dis one fight an' became a writah foah a bunch a big papahs."

"Wheah is 'e now?"

"'e died some time ago," I answered, the smile on my face gone. "Muggin' gone wrong."

The two became silent, seeing the look on my face.

"Dun' woiry 'bout me guys," I said, chuckling softly. "I'm poifectly fine."

As Cowboy and Race started congratulating me again, we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge into familiar Manhattan territory. What followed me was some amount of pride and the memory of those icy blue eyes burned into my thoughts.

--

What'd you think? Review, please! -Fox


	8. Legend

Chapter 8: Legend

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies because if I did, I would be sitting on a golden-trimmed yacht, basking in my awesomeness.

A/N: I'm so glad on how the last chapter turned out in response to all you Newsie-lovers. To everyone who has read, reviewed and added this story on "Story Alert", "Favorite Story" and me on your "Favorite Author" lists, thank you so much! I've been having some rough times and this story has really kept me going. After moving and a bunch of school and life drama, I will able to update more so don't go away. Enjoy!

--

As soon as we entered the familiar streets of Manhattan, Race and Jack had the sudden urge to tell everyone that they knew the "heroic details". It was rather admiring at first but after hearing the same story over and over again told to overexcited boys that we passed on the street got really annoying really fast. Besides, I felt horrible due to my first encounter of "The King of Brooklyn". My head throbbed with every step I took and along with the fact that I couldn't see out of one eye and the basic injuries after getting soaked; I was feeling too great after awhile.

So, you could hardly imagine my relief when I saw the familiar, worn-down boarding house only a little farther ahead of where we walked. But because I didn't want the two to know that I didn't feel good, I unhappily walked their slow pace instead of racing up the steps and jumping onto my bunk bed like I really wanted to. But that didn't fool a certain best friend of mine.

"'ey Tigah, you ain't lookin' too hot ovah deah," Race remarked, looking at my bruised and beaten face. "Ya suah yer alright?"

I nodded. "A coise I'm alright, Race," I laughingly added, ignoring the pains that I felt all throughout my body. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He looked at me, obviously skeptic. "If you'se says so."

Ignoring my skeptic friend's remark, we finally reached the top of the stairs that led to the inside of the boarding house. I somewhat eagerly opened the door and walked inside.

Kloppman was standing at his usual spot behind the front desk when we walked in. "'ey boys," he happily said, looking at the three of us. Then he saw me. "Ouch! how'dja get soaked so badly, Tiger? "

I decided to play dumb. "Oh this?" I asked, lightly touching the tender spot around my eye. I winced at the slight touch. "It ain't nothin'."

"Spot tried ta' have 'is way wid 'im." Cowboy answered proudly, draping his arm around my shoulders like a proud father would his son. "You should see da maiks Tigah ovah heah left on 'im!"

Kloppman chuckled. "I wouldn' doubt dat foah a minute!"

"Well, I should find da uddah guys," Race said, fixing his vest and cap. "I gotta collect some money from da chumps."

"I'm gonna jes' stay heah wid Kloppman an' wait ta' see if any a dem show up." I replied, sitting down on the bottom steps of the stairs that led to the second floor. "I'll see ya latah."

Race nodded before stepping back outside, the sound of his feet fading as he yelled. "Ya Specs, I sees ya ovah deah! Dun' botha tryin' ta' walk away!"

Cowboy took his cowboy hat off as he looked out the open door. "I'se gonna go wid 'im an' make suah nuttin' bad happens," he said, his face etched in humor. "Ya suah yer alright?"

Again, I nodded. "Would I lie to ya?"

Cowboy rolled his eyes as if to say, 'yeah, right', dodged my flying cap that I threw at him and ran out the door. "'ey Race, put 'im down!" I heard his now distant voice yell.

When the door closed behind him, Kloppman immediately turned his eyes back in my direction. "Why were ya fightin' Brooklyn, Tigah?" he asked, wiping his forehead with his old hankerchief that he put back in his pocket.

I shrugged. "Does a guy need a reason ta' be fightin' him?"

He mirrored my shrug. "Back in my day, young fellahs like yerself didn' fight anyone unless they had a reason."

"Well, it wadn't really my choice, Kloppman."

Kloppman moved from behind the desk, closer to me over on the stairs. "What's on yer mind, kid?"

I sighed and stared up at the ceiling, looking at the stains from long ago. "I dun' know," I replied. "Jes' stuff goin' on."

"If it's about the fight, ya gotta know that ya can't win 'em all."

"Yea, I know dat," I replied, looking at him. "It was jes'...somethin' strange 'bout dis guy."

"Brooklyn's one helluva fighta," Kloppman practically exclaimed. "I'm surprised ya got away wid some cuts an' bruises an' that black eye a yers."

"Oh, ya didn' heah da heroic details yet?" I asked sarcastically, my mouth open in fake shock.

Kloppman shook his head, smiling. "No, I can't say I have."

"I'm suah Cowboy an' Race will tell ya awl about it." I said, lightly touching the swollen area around my eye and flinching a little from the contact.

"Speakin' a black eyes, did'ja get some ice foah that?" He asked, looking at my eye intently.

"Musta foahgot," I answered, shrugging.

He shook his head again. "I sweah ya gonna be the death a me."

"'ey dun' woiry 'bout me," I said, smirking. "We awl make ah contributions."

"Yea, you an' yer pahtner Race, the two biggest wiseguys in awl a New Yoik," he replied, straightening his spectacles. "If you'se guys spent as much time sellin' as ya do goofin' owf, you'd be millionaires by now."

"But den we wouldn' be humble newsboys an' givin' ya headaches."

"Yea, yea," he said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand, walking back to his desk. "Lemme get cha some ice."

"T'anks, Kloppman."

As soon as he disappeared into a small room near his desk, I saw Skittery and Kid Blink walk into the lodging house, probably coming back from a day of lazing around Central Park.

Blink saw me first.

"'ey Tigah!" he exclaimed, a big grin on his face. "Yer alive!"

"We toight foah suah you'd be six feet undah by now." Skittery added, he and Blink walking over to me by the stairs.

I rolled my eyes. "T'anks foah da suppoit, Skitts."

He shrugged, sitting on the extra space of the step I was on and Blink sat on the step below us, obviously eager.

"So, what happened?" Blink asked. "How badly did ya soak Spot?"

I was about to answer when Kloppman returned, a towelful of dripping ice in his hands.

"Here ya go, Tigah," he said, handing me the towel. "Makes the swellin' go down."

I took the ice, nodded a 'thanks' to him, and slowly put the ice on my swollen eye, being careful not to wince in front of the guys.

Skittery scoffed. "'ey Klopp, why dun' _we_ get ice when _we_ get soaked?"

"When ya soak as many guys as Tigah does an' then get soaked by Spot Conlon, let me know an' I'll get cha a whole bucket." he answered, walking back to his desk.

Skittery frowned and Blink slapped him on the back. "Aw, come on Skittery, it ain't ev'ry day dat one a ah Newsies fights da King a Brooklyn ta' save da alliance 'tween 'Hattan an' Brooklyn."

"Afta almost destroyin' it."

I took off the ice and gave the pessimistic newsboy a look, despite my swollen eye.

"What's da mattah wid chyou?" I asked. "Blink steal anuddah goil out from undah you again?"

Skittery shot me a glare. At the same second, it was as if a swarm of newsies came pouring in, all talking about my recent 'meeting' with Spot. Circling around me, they all started bombarding me with questions.

"Did 'e club ya wid 'is cane?"

"Did any a 'is goons try a jump in?

"Is it true dat 'e tackled ya from 50 feet in da air?

"Did 'e-"

"Alright, alright, give 'im some space!" Cowboy exclaimed, pushing his way through the crowd, over to me.

The crowd moved back and quieted down, obeying our leader's orders.

"Now, Tigah had a long day so if anyone's itchin' foah a retellin', ask me oah Race 'cause we all knows we tell da stories da best," he said, smiling. "'sides, I t'ink Tigah is a liddle tired of it."

"Yea, if dey tell ya, it'll sound a lot moah majestic den what I t'ink actually happened." I added jokingly.

Race walked into the room. "'cause we know yer so humble 'bout it awl."

"Soah, 'humble'," I replied, rolling my eyes the best I could with the black eye. "T'ank goodness dat dun' stop you'se guys from sparin' 'em from awl da gory details."

"Dat's right! So, who wants ta' heah it again?" Race exclaimed.

It seemed like it was a stampede up the stairs, making me, Blink and Skittery move out of the way to avoid being trampled. The two followed the group up the stairs after Cowboy and Race, leaving only me and Kloppman in the deserted-looking room.

I shook my head. Boys. I walked over to the front desk where Kloppman was, a now cold, wet towel in my hands.

"Guess it's jes' you an' me again, huh, Kloppman?" I asked, putting the towel on the desk, safely away from the log books.

"Looks like it," he replied, taking the towel and putting it behind his desk. "Now, woin't cha gonna tell me somethin' 'bout dat Spot Conlon?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I musta foahgot," I lied. "Guess it wadn't dat impoitant."

Kloppman looked at me for a second and nodded. "Alright, den."

I gave him a nod. "Well, I'se gonna go outside foah a sec ta' get some fresh aih."

With that, I walked out of the lodging house and into the New York air.

Leaning against the brick wall by the door, I let out a sigh. I had some many questions about what happened today. Like, what was up with Spot Conlon? He had that way about him that just didn't sit right with me. I've learned to not show any emotions, but with him, it was like he didn't HAVE any emotions to hide. Well, except anger but other than that, it seemed as though he was carved out of stone.

Yet, he's able to control everyone he lays his eyes on. Despite his small figure, although he's taller than me, he's able to make the biggest guy do anything he wanted. It was probably because of those icy blue eyes of his. Thinking about his death glare from earlier made my throat close up again, like his cane was pressed against my throat again. Letting go of my previous thoughts, I felt the invisible pressure lift. After rubbing my throat rapidly for a few seconds, wondering what the heck happened, I decided to put away my suspicions about Spot.

At least for a little while.

I remained against the wall, searching for a cigarette or cigar to pass the time with or relieve my stress. Of course, no such luck. I had reached into my pocket to pull out my watch, which was hidden better in my pocket since the Delancy incident, when I heard a familiar voice.

"'ey Tigah, what's da story?"

I looked out into the street and saw a figure hobbling towards me.

I smiled. "'ey Crutchy, I toight ya hoid afta awl dis time."

Crutchy slowly hobbled up the stairs and gave me a good look. "Oh, I hoid but _somebody_ already spread da story like wild fiah."

I shook my head. I knew exactly who that sombody, or _two_ sombodies, Crutchy was talking about. "How ya wailkin' ta'day?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Coitainly bettah den you look," he said, still looking at me. "Ya look like ya got ran ovah by a bull's wagon."

"It ain't as bad as it looks."

"Suah hope so."

With that, he reached up and touched my face.

A terrible pain hit me. "Ow!" I slightly yelped. "What chyou touchin' me face foah?" I demanded, backing away.

"I wanted ta' see if you'se was lyin'."

"I wadn't lyin'..." I replied, straightening my clothes. "I'se jes' improvin' da truth a liddle."

He smiled. "If I didn' believe dat chyou was a newsie befoah, I coitainly do now."

Letting out a chuckle, I smiled back. "C'mon, let's go find da uddah guys an' bask in me glory."

Opening the door for Crutchy, he and I entered the lodging house.

--

-What'd you think? It'll get better as time goes on. I promise. R&R, por favor! -Fox


	9. Rooftops

Chapter 9: Rooftops

Me: _diligently typing on the computer._

_Tiger suddenly appears by the computer and peers at the screen._

Tiger: Whatta ya doin'?

Me: _Without taking eyes off the screen. _Doing some homework. Why?

Tiger: Ya got a buncha reviews an' alerts sayin' they want ya ta' update soon!

Me: Yeah, and I thank them for being so awesome but I have to..._names a crapload of dumb things to be done._

Tiger: _shakes head. _I t'ink you'se can spaih some time ta' type up dis chapta.

Me: _contemplates then nods slowly._ Yeah, I think I can spare a few minutes...

Tiger: _smiles. _Deah ya go! _Turns to leave, stops, turns back and smirks. _By da way, in da last chapta, ya spelt 'somebodies' wrong. Twice.

Me: _Looks angry. _That was a typo and I was in a hurry to finish typing it!

Tiger: Suah, suah..

Me: _Throws pillow. _Let me just write your story.

Tiger: _Dodges flying pillow. _And ya don't own Newsies. Disney does. Ya just own me, dis story an' da Newsies dat didn' exist in da movie, rememba?

Me: Uh..DUH!

Onto the story!

--

"Alrigh', I call ya an' raise ya 5." Race said, putting his coins into the pot at the center of the table.

I took my eyes off my cards and looked around at the table. All the guys were so engrossed in the game that I bet you a week of my earnings that they wouldn't notice if it was raining hot dogs and gold outside. Well, except me, of course.

We had some guys from different buroughs that we knew and were buddies with come but a certain "King of Brooklyn" never showed. Some of the guys thought it was because he was scared to show up and possibly have a rematch with me and lose this time. But I knew that he probably had better and more important things to do than play cards with a bunch of kids where somebody was probably cheating.

It was suddenly my turn.

Still distracted, I threw in some coins. "Cawl."

"'ey Tigah, whatsa mattah wid chyou?" Race asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"Whatta ya mean?"

"I mean you'se not yerself ta'day, bein' awl quiet an' now ya jes' raised da pot by 2 but ya said dat cha cawled."

I looked at the small pile of coins. "Oh." I replied, surprised. "I'se was jes' t'inkin' 'bout cha muddah an' how I'se had ta' cancel ah date ta'nigh' since she's so big she can barely fit t'rough da doah."

The guys laughed at my quick remark while Race's face got a little red.

"You'se a lucky guy dat chyer me good friend an' awlready been soaked ta'day or I'd soak ya good."

I laughed a little and looked at my cards.

Turns out, Race won the hand, his full house beating my pair of queens.

"Me revenge foah da muddah comment, Tigah." he said smugly, pulling in his earnings.

"Suah it is," I replied sarcastically, getting out of my chair and stretching. "I t'ink I'se gonna go ta' bed."

Mubles of 'g'night' was heard from the guys as I walked out of the room and up the stairs.

Reaching the 2nd floor, I saw that the window that led to the fire escape was open. Curious, I climbed out of the window and stepped onto the fire escape. There was no one there, obviously, but I decided to investigate the dark area to see if anyone was outside with me. I walked up to the roof, climbing the rusted stairs that led from the window to the roof of the lodging house. As soon as I got to the top of the stairs, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness to see a tiny pinpoint of light not to far from me.

"Who's up heah?" I called out.

A voice answered that made me feel like my heart stopped for a second.

"Well, well, if it ain' Tigah," Spot Conlon said, taking a drag on his cigarette before continuing, blowing the smoke into the New York air. "How ya been since dis mornin'?"

I took a quiet deep breath. "Been bettah but I ain' complainin'."

He quietly chuckled, making me unsure if he was laughing at me or laughing at what I said. "Glad ta' heah dat."

Oh yeah, he was laughing at me.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. "Ah ya jes' gonna stand deah oih ah ya gonna join me?"

"Do I gotta choice?"

Even in the dark, I could feel his gaze on me.

"It dun' mattah what I say." He said, the almost mocking tone in his voice gone, making him sound almost sincere.

I slowly walked in the direction of his voice and the tiny flame from his cigarette. I heard a match being striked and saw the tiny glow of Spot's face as he lit a lantern he had beside him. Being able to see where I was going, I walked the rest of the way and sat down next to him.

I fixed my cap on my head, shielding my eyes. "How'dja get up heah widout anyone seein' ya?"

"I have me ways."

"But why ya up heah in da foist place?"

He looked out, his eyes on the dark city in front of us. "I like da view."

I laid down, looking at the stars instead of the city. "Yea, I t'ink we'se got one a da best views a da whole city."

I heard a sigh. "Yea, it's much bettah heah den in Brooklyn," he said, taking one last puff on his cigareete before flicking it off the edge of the roof. "But I'se hopin' ta' expand me territory an' take ovah da docks an' get me a rivah view."

I remained silent, taking in what he was saying. I doubt he talked like this much on a daily basis.

He looked over at me, his face in the shadow of the lantern due to my angle. "Dose ah some nice bruises ya got deah," he remarked, his voice back in the somewhat mocking tone. "'specially dat shinah."

I sat up. "Da haniwoik a da famous Spot Conlon."

From where I was sitting, the shadow was gone from Spot's face and I could clearly see a huge, purple bruise on the left side of his face. I felt better knowing that I didn't get soaked without a fight.

"Not widout chyou getting' in a few good shots on yer own." he replied, lightly fingering that side of his face.

I shrugged, hiding my trumphiant grin. "Well, I do have me moments."

Spot remianed silent so I turned to look at the dark New York sky.

Without thinking, I asked him something that had been on my mind all day. "Do ya evah get tired a tryin' ta' pretend like you'se ain' even human?"

He replied quickly, without missing a beat. "Don'cha evah get tired a askin' questions?"

I chuckled. At least he didn't sound too annoyed. "Curiosity may'a killed da cat but it ain' done nuttin' ta' me yet."

Even though I wasn't looking at him, I saw Spot out of the corner of my eye turn to me, fixing his gaze on me once more. I ignored the shiver that went down my spine and pretneded like I wasn't wtahcing him watching me.

"Ah ya scaihed a' me?"

I didn't turn to him. "Should I be?"

"Dat wadn' me question."

I looked away from the city to meet his gaze. I stared back, meeting his icy blues with a sense of confidence.

As I was about to answer, I heard a familiar voice call up to me.

"'ey Tigah! You up deah?" Race's voice rang out.

"Yea, I'll be down in a sec," I answered, still looking at Spot.

"I guess it's time ta' go foah da both a us," Spot quietly said, breaking our eye contact to blow out the lantern, plunging us into the darkness once more.

I stood up. "Guess so."

"See ya 'round, Tigah," Spot said, hearing him stand up, also.

"Maybe."

As I heard him walk over to the stairs, I quickly spoke again. "'ey, da nex' time ya wanna sneak up on ah roof, make suah not ta' leave da window open afta goin t'rough it."

I heard him stop. "Who said I evah went t'rough da window?"

As his footsteps down the stairs faded away, I continued to stand in silence. Then who...?

"Tigah!" Race called out again. "Ya comin' oih not?"

"Yea, yea!" I yelled back. "Keep ya pants on, I'm comin'!"

With that, I slowly made my way to the fire escape and to the 2nd story window.

--

What'd you think? This chapter used to be helluva lot longer but I felt the 2nd half would be better for the next chapter. Please review and let me know your thoughts on the directions this story is taking! -Fox


	10. Birdies

Chapter 10: Birdies

Disclaimer: Don't own Newsies. Unfortunately, Disney does. All I do is play around with the characters, add a few more into the mix, and see how it plays out.

A/N: In just a few days, I got a bunch of Alerts and added as Favorites. I'm so amazed by you guys. I would like the thank the newbies and the oldies for your support. Reviewers...you make me blush. =) And Mids, since you politely asked, your wish is my command. Enjoy!

--

"Extra! Extra! Innocent families perish unexpectedly! You could be next!" Tiger shouted in the early streets of New York City, her voice echoing throughout the morning rush.

A small group of worried-looking women quickly ran up to the newsie and each bought a newspaper, frantically whispering to each other while turning the pages. Tiger just as quickly slipped into the crowd, following it to another block. While walking, she wondered how long it would take for them to realize that the whole headline was made-up. Hey, they can't all be good days.

Today was the first day for Tiger on her own and it was a pretty horrible one at that. Racetrack had decided to take an extra day off with his winnings and go down to Sheepshead Races, so instead of taking one of the other guys as her partner, she decided to sell on her own.

'_What a mistake I made,' _she thought, stopping a few streets over from her last sell and attempted to sell more papers. Business men walked past quickly, glancing at her beaten-up face and wrinkling their noses in disgust. _'They prolly think I'm just some street punk,' _she added in her mind, selling another paper to a less snobby man with her fictional headline. _'Thanks a lot, Spot.'_

She had sold about half of her measly 30 papers when she felt a slight tug on her right sleeve.

Looking down, Tiger saw a tiny boy with dark brown hair peaking out of his gray cap and piercing green eyes staring up at her, his eyes brighter then they would probably be usually due to all the dirt on his face. He couldn't have been more than 7.

"Yea?" She asked, fixing her cap over her short hair, shifting the remaining papers over her shoulder.

The little boy seemed nervous. "Uh...ah, ah, ya Tigah?" He stuttered, his green eyes wide with fear.

Tiger relaxed, seeing that her appearance and her reputation obviously scared him a little. "Yea, dat's me, an' you ah?"

"Um, me name is Pint, sir."

She smiled a little. "You'se ain' gotta cawl me 'sir' oih nuttin' but I'se appreciate if ya tell me why yer comin' upta' me while I'se sellin' ovah heah."

"Well, I was told told ta' find ya an' bring ya back," Pint answered, now looking down at the ground.

"Back wheah an' by who?" Tiger asked, confused.

"Back ta' Brooklyn an' by Spot Conlon."

Tiger rolled her eyes. _'Of course. Doesn't he have a life or something?' _"If 'e wanna rematch, I ain' interested," she answered, looking at the sidewalk they were on for possible customers. "'Sides, I ain' 'xactly itchin' ta' go ta' Brooklyn."

She saw Pint's head snap up in alarm, his eyes once again widened in fear. "But chyou gotta come back wid me!" he exclaimed. "If ya dun', Spot's gonna-"

"Alrigh', alrigh', calm down kid," she said, interrupting. "I jes' wanna know why I 'gotta' go befoah I staht runnin' ovah ta' differen' territories."

The boy shrugged. "'e jes' said ta' come ovah heah an' get chya."

Tiger eyed the boy suspiciously, not knowing whether to believe him and go or walk away, thinking it was a trap.

_"Da foist rule when bein' in Brooklyn: Dun' believe ev'ryting ya heah." _Spot's voice rang out in her head.

"How do I know dat chyou'se ain' lyin'?" Tiger asked, shifting the newspapers again.

Pint bit his lip, thinking. "'e told me ta' tell you'se sumtin' if ya didn' believe me."

Tiger sold another paper and resisted the urge to look at her hidden watch to check the time so he wouldn't feel bad when Pint's face lit up. "Oh, yea!" he exclaimed. "'e wanted me ta' tell ya dat 'it's got da second-best view'." His face crumpled in confusion. "Whatevah dat means."

She shook her head. He was telling the truth. "Awlrigh', awlrigh', you win," she replied, giving in. "I'll go wid chya."

Pint's eyes lit up as he smiled. "Ya will?!"

"Yea," Tiger said, resisting the urge to smile back. "But on one condition."

"What's dat?"

"Dat chya help me sell da rest a me papes."

Pint nodded enthusiastically. "Okay!"

"Alrigh'," she said. "Now awl ya gotta do is play awlong an' we'll get dis done in no time an' I'll let chya keep some a da money."

His eyes widened and he gasped. "Really?!"

This time, Tiger really smiled. "Yea, since we'se gonna be pahtnahs ta'day."

Pint smiled and they quickly got to work. Pint was 'Tiger's little brother' and Tiger was 'the heroic older brother' who saved him from a group of scabbers who took his money and tried to beat him up. The story was practically flawlessly told by Tiger as Pint 'cried' and held the papers for the adults that went by to purchase from him.

In 10 minutes, all the papers were sold and someone bought Pint some candy, which he was happily eating. Tiger pocketed the money, holding a few pennies for Pint to collect.

He shook his head. "Nah, you keep it."

Tiger shook her head in disbelief. "Ya suah?"

He nodded.

She chuckled. "Ah ya suah ya from Brooklyn?" Tiger put the rest of the money in her pocket. "Now let's go befoah I change me mind."

The two quickly walked down the street, heading towards the Brooklyn Bridge. Tiger looked around to see if she saw any newsies that she knew, not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing, while Pint skipped in happiness beside her, a huge grin on his face.

Tiger looked over and saw what he was doing. "'ey, cut dat out!" she snapped. "I gotta rep ta' protect 'round heah an' I prolly awlready look suspicious walkin' ovah ta' Brooklyn!" She paused. "'sides, I dun' wanna hafta soak nobody 'cause a you."

The boy stopped skipping but kept smiling, her command obviously not dampening his spirits.

Tiger cracked a small smile. "It musta been real impoiant foah me ta' come wid chya, wadn't it/"

Pint looked up at her. "Yea, 'e don't like it when we dun' do ah assignments."

"Assignments?"

"Yea, I'se one a 'is boidies." Pint replied proudly, his posture straighter, obviously feeling important.

She nodded. "I remembah 'im sayin' somt'in' 'bout boidies."

"We's like 'is messengahs, doin' t'ings in otha buroughs an' bringin' back infahmation dat involves Brooklyn."

They were now crossing the Brooklyn Bridge but instead at looking over at the water stretched out below them, Tiger watched Pint. "Don'cha get tiahed a doin' awl dat?" she asked.

Pint shrugged his small shoulders. "Not really."

"Why? Shouldn'ya be out wid awl ya friends like otha newsies yer age?"

The boy stared up at Tiger with wide, unbelieving eyes. "Ah ya kiddin'?!" he exclaimed. "Me an' me best friend Shadow ah needed by Spot Conlon 'isself an' widout us, 'e wouldn' know nuttin'."

Tiger couldn't help but feel sympathetic and happy for the small boy's enthusiasm and the fact he's able to have a best friend like her and...

_'Wait!' _a voice exclaimed in her head. _'What about Race?'_

She stopped. _'What about him?' _

_'Aren't you going to meet him at the tracks or at least tell him where you're going?' _the voice continued.

Tiger took off her cap and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. _'Ugh! I should have,' _she thought angrily. _'What am I supposed to do? I already promised the kid I would go meet with Brooklyn.'_

_'I say that...'_

"Uh..Tigah, sir?" Pint's voice timidly asked, interrupting her inner argument. "But I was wonderin' why you'se stopped when we ain' dat fah from Brooklyn."

Tiger looked over to where he motioned to and, sure enough, there was the familiar, distant warehouse that she had went to when she went to Brooklyn last.

_'Well, I'll only stay for a little bit,' _she concluded. _'Race will be too busy to notice, anyway.'_

_'Whatever, it's your funeral.'_

_'Shut up!'_ she snapped. _'Stupid voices inside my head tryin' to tell me what to do..'_

Ignoring the voice of her conscience, Tiger followed the littler boy over the bridge and into Brooklyn territory.

XXXX

It was early in the afternoon when Racetrack Higgins appeared out of Sheepshead Bay Racetrack, fuming about some of the losses he sustained earlier that day. _'Lyin' bahstahd,' _he bitterly thought. _'Told me 'e was da "new talent." Ha, new talent must be really talented at makin' me lose me money.'_

As Race slowly got over his lose, he suddenly realized something. Tiger was nowhere to be found. _'Huh,'_ he wondered, looking in the crowds that resided itself near the racetrack and on the streets of Brooklyn as he kept walking, looking for a familiar face that belonged to his best friend. _'Maybe 'e went ta' sell da aftanoon edition oih sumt'in.' _

Just as he came to his conclusion, he saw that same familiar face walking across the Brooklyn Bridge. But he also saw a little boy at his side, clearly walking with him. _'Is dat Tigah wid?..' _he asked himself, squinting his eyes to get a better look.

The little boy was clearly someone he recognized.

"Pint." Race whispered to himself. "Ain' 'e one a Spot's boidies?"

He was, but why was he with Tiger? How did they know each other?

Race's stomach lurched as he thought of a seemingly impossible explanation. "'e's one a dem." he said, talking to himself once more.

"No, no, no!" He exclaimed, pulling off his cap in frustration. "It can't be, it jes' can't be!"

As he was in conflict, Racetrack noticed that Tiger and Pint were headed in his direction, not noticing he was there. Racetrack quickly moved to a side alley, hiding himself in the shadows.

The two quickly passed, clearly their minds set on a destination.

_'It couldn' hoit ta' follow dem, would it?' _he thought, walking them walk away. _'Jes' ta' prove dat Tigah ain' wid Brooklyn.'_

With that reason, Racetrack quickly followed the pair, hoping that his assumptions about his best friend were false.

--

So, what'd you think? I decided to introduce a new character and I love him to death (even though he's only a figment of my imagination!) Review, amazing readers! -Fox


	11. New Beginnings

Chapter 11: New Beginnings

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I've been inactive..again. I've been needing to finish up some schoolwork and unfortunately, this has put a pause on the writing process. I'm out of chapters…for the moment but soon, we will continue the story of Tiger and her time with the Newsies. Oh! I am AMAZED by you guys! The last chapter was not up for even 10 MINUTES and I got two reviews simultaneously! Plus, we passed the usual reviews with a whooping 11 reviews! Your comments make me smile. I'm so glad that you guys think that this story is great. I try to make it as un-Mary-Sue and "un-lame" as possible. Enjoy this chapter!

--

We got to the…"destination", I guess you could say. It was the same warehouse as before but I didn't had a chance to really look at it last time before Spot started beating my face into the ground. Broken windows, shady alleyways, crumbling buildings decorated the area. Guess this was "home, sweet, home" to them.

As I uneasily looked around and at the practically destroyed building, Pint continued to walk ahead, towards the entrance. The door had obviously seen better days and it had red streaks on it like…

"Tigah! Ya comin'?" Pint exclaimed, looking at me with questioning eyes.

I heaved a sigh. There was obviously no way out of this. "Ya! Jes' hold yer hoises!" I told him, slowly walking up.

"Wha'? Ya scaihed?"

"Ya kiddin' me?" I scoffed, moving my hand up to Pint's head, ruffling his cap. "I ain' scaihed 'a nuttin' oih nobody."

The boy smiled as he fixed his cap back into the position it was before, a huge smile on his face again. "Den why you'se takin' so loing?"

I looked around, taking a second to answer. "Tryin' ta' see what Spot said 'bout a view." I scoffed. "A view 'a da guttahs and sewah rats?"

"We should go inside, den," Pint replied, a slightly annoyed tone in his voice.

"Ah ya tryin' ta' get smaiht wid me?" I asked, looking back down at Pint.

He immediately got nervous. "Ah…no, I'se jes askin'…"

I smiled. "I knows dat chya was jes' askin."

With that, the puppy dog-like Pint and I walked into the Brooklyn lodging house, not knowing what waited for us on the other side of the blood-looking-streaked door.

***

Racetrack was tired and severely cross. He lost track of the two newsies and the hot New York sun was beating down on his back, making the once cool weather turn into the equivalence of a baker's oven.

"I almos' wish 'e woiks wid Brooklyn so dis ain' a waste a time," he muttered to himself, taking off his cap and wiping his sweaty forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Eitha way, I'm gonna soak 'im."

He knew his way around New York pretty well but he'd only been in Brooklyn to go to the races or something. Either way, he mostly stayed in places like Manhattan or Queens until he was promoted to second-in-command not too long ago when Jack became the Manhattan Leader. So obviously, he didn't know where the Brooklyn lodging house was.

If he wasn't so curious about Tiger's activities in Brooklyn, he wouldn't need to know where it was at all.

Dodging the afternoon crowds that appeared on the dank city sidewalks, Racetrack was almost about to give up and head back home.

Until he heard them.

"Yea, 'e's ovah deah now," a small boy's voice piped up, attracting Racetrack to suddenly stop and listen intently and nonchalantly. "Spot sent Pint ovah ta' Manhattan foah 'im oih somethin'."

"'e prolly wants anotha round," an older boy replied, straightening his dirty newsboy clothes. "'eard dat dis guy almos' beat 'im."

"'e sounds like some fightah!"

The older boy nodded. "I watched dem have at it." He then shook his shaggy-haired head. "It was amazin'! Dis guy could really throw a few punches."

The young boy's eyes widened, imagining a powerful fight between two god-like warriors. "Let's go ovah an' see!"

With that, the two boys continued to walk, with Racetrack quietly and slowly following behind them.

***

"Dis is really annoyin' da crap outta me," Tiger muttered to herself, looking at the dirty, ragged room around her. ""e ain' even heah."

"'e's on da roof." Pint answered, pointing upstairs. "You can go up da staihs, go t'rough da window, an' take da fiah escape."

Rolling her eyes, she quickly walked up the stairs, the steps creaking dangerously with each step. As she reached the second floor, she saw the filthy, cracked window open, showing the fire escape that was next to it.

"Dis feels familiah," Tiger sarcastically commented, climbing through the window and onto the rusty fire escape, walking to the top.

Like the night before, Spot laid on the roof, smoking another cigarette. He appeared to not even notice her sudden presence.

"Whatta ya want, Brooklyn?" the annoyed newsie asked, not in the mood to play games. "I got a livin' ta' make heah."

Spot stayed silent, like he didn't hear her.

"Brooklyn!" she exclaimed.

Again, nothing.

Tiger sighed and turned to walk back down the fire escape when she heard a voice behind her.

"Ain'cha gonna check out da view befoah ya go?"

She stopped and turned. "Not awl a us got da time ta' do dat, Spot."

Spot Conlon sat up, flicking the butt of his finished cigarette off the roof, his eyes still not looking at her. "Den why did'ja come?"

"'Cause Pint…" she began to explain. She stopped because she could have just blown him off.

"I dunno," she finalized. "Curiosity?"

The King of Brooklyn smirked. "Still ain' dun' nuttin' ta' you, den, huh?"

Tiger chuckled. "I'se still standin' heah, ain' I?"

Spot finally looked at her, his icy blue eyes taking in her presence.

Tiger suppressed yet another shiver down her spine. It was like he could see right through her. "Now dat I'se seen what I 'needed' ta' see, I'll be leavin' now."

Spot stood up, locking in eye contact. "Really?"

"Yea," Tiger confirmed, putting her hand on the railing of the stairs. "Really."

He nodded. "Befoah ya go, can I ask ya somethin'?

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she nodded. "If you'se mouth can toiwk."

"Do ya really t'ink you belong in 'Hattan wid Jack an' da uddah boys ovah deah?"

"What's it to ya?"

He shrugged. "Jes' curious."

Tiger tore her eyes from his powerful eye contact, looking out over the roof, to the Brooklyn view of New York. "I dunno," she quietly replied. "I hope so."

"'Hope'?" Spot bitterly spat. "Whatta waste of a woid."

Tiger looked from the view, over to Spot. "Sometimes, dat's awl ya got."

With that, she turned and walked back down the stairs, leaving an expressionless Spot Conlon behind her.

Leaving the window open, she decided to walk down the whole flight of fire escape stairs, not really in the mood to see Pint and his overly eager face.

As soon as she reached the ground, she heard a familiar voice that practically made her body freeze.

"TIGAH!" Race shouted. "What da hell ah ya doin' ovah heah?!"

She turned to see her seething best friend in front of her. "Uh…hey, Race. Whatta ya see, whatta ya heah?" Tiger nonchalantly asked, ignoring the hostility in his body language and tone of voice.

"Dat chyou came ovah ta' Brooklyn, ya liah!"

Tiger angrily scoffed. "Lied ta' ya 'bout what?" she snapped. "It was a surprise attack on me! What was I'se supposed ta' do?"

"Not go wid Pint ta' see Spot!"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn' want ta' have Spot get mad at 'im! Da kid was terrified."

Racetrack's angry expression slowly disappeared from his face as he took in what his best friend said. "Yea, dat kid can be a real con sometimes. 'e can sucka anybody wid dat face a his."

"So ya not mad at me anymoah?"

The newsie sighed. "C'mon."

Tiger followed his receding steps. "Wheah we goin'?"

"Ta' wheah I used ta' live."

***

The streets were chaotic with broken English and vendors shouting out prices of goods, hoping to bring in customers that were loud with the gossip of neighbors.

Tiger watched the scenes unfold in front of her, clotheslines decorating the New York sky from crumbling apartment buildings. "Wheah ah we?"

"Dis," Racetrack replied, looking around. "Dis is 'Little Italy'."

"You lived heah?" The surprised newsie asked. "I awlways knew dat chyou was Italian but ain' 'Higgins'-"

"An Irish name?" Race finished, looking around. "Yea, but dat paiht dun' count ta' me."

"Why?"

"'Cause I was raised by me muddah, not me faddah," he answered, his tone almost expressionless. "I try not ta' associate meself wid men who abandon pregnant women."

Tiger stayed silent, noticing her friend's bitter statement. "But ya kept 'is name?"

Racetrack nodded. "Might as well keep da line a runaways goin'."

"Why'dja run away, Race?" Tiger asked, concerned.

He hung his head and took a deep breath. "I was scaihed."

"Of what?"

"Dese guys dat I knew from da racetracks dat I cheated outta money once," he quietly replied. "I didn' wanna 'ave me muddah get hoit by dem so I ran away in hopes a protectin' ha 'cause I didn' wan' dem ta' see me walk home one day an' find ha."

Tiger's face fell in understanding as she thought about his motives. "An' ya kept 'is name in hope dat deah nevah link ya ta' ha."

Race could only nod.

Almost losing her boy persona, she put a hand on his slumped shoulders. "What's ya real name, Race?"

Race's head rose up and he turned to meet her eyes. "Anthony."

Tiger moved her hand from his shoulder to the front of her, ready to shake his hand as if they were just meeting. "Jesse."

Race looked at her hand for a second, then smiled and shook it firmly. "Nice ta' meet ya."

"You, too."

"An' now dat we really met, no more majah secrets, alrigh'?"

Tiger nodded. "Right."

"Whenevah ya wanna tell me wheah ya came from an' awl dat, jes' let me know, alrigh'?" Race confirmed, putting a friendly arm around his friend's shoulder. "Oih, God foahbid, ya join Brooklyn."

Tiger laughed. "Trust me," she replied. "Dat ain' evah happenin'."

"Good," he said, in a joking tone. "Oih else I would hafta soak ya."

"You dun' stand a chance against me."

"Oh really?" he 'curiously' asked. "Hopefully, we'll nevah hafta find out."

Tiger nodded happily, glad to not have an angry Racetrack to deal with. "Let's go."

With that, the two newsies began their long walk back to Manhattan, joking and laughing the whole way.

--

Alright, hopefully that wasn't TOO cheesy. But I just felt like putting that in there to move the story along and have Tiger develop more. If the characters were a little too OOC, sorry about that. It was needed. So, I decided while writing this chapter and looking back on the silly typos that I missed, that I'm interested in a Beta Reader. The reason I'm saying it here and not in the Beta Reader part of FFnet is because I would like one of you to take up the job since you've all followed the story. I would just prefer someone who is experienced in correcting stories grammar and *maybe* helping the story along. I would prefer not to have a bunch of comments on how I should write my story but rather correcting the grammar mistakes that were NOT purposely put in there. But if you have an awesome idea, I might take that into consideration. Plus, you would get a first-hand look on every chapter. PM me if you're interested! -Fox


	12. Confusion

Chapter 12: Confusion

A/N: Yeah, so the last chapter didn't go over as well as I hoped. Thank you to all the reviews, though! Hopefully, this chapter will clear up any misunderstanding of the last chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. If I did, would I be spending my time writing fan fictions about it?

---

_CRASH_

The forgotten beer bottle exploded as the marble struck it, sending shards of glass everywhere.

Spot Conlon loaded another marble into the slingshot, looking for another target. _'If only Tigah was 'round heah, den I'se 'ave me next tahget,' _he thought to himself, his eyes narrowing in anger and frustration over the thought-of newsie. _''e tryin' tah figah me out, thinkin' 'e knows everyt'in'.'_

You could tell he was angry. Well, so could the other Brooklyn Newsies, due to the constant isolation and quietness he received from them all. Besides, no one had the guts to go up to him. The last guy who had tried ended up no being able tosee for weeks due to two black eyes.

Angry that he couldn't find another bottle, Spot shot the marble hurtling over the rooftop, making anything or anyone below a target. He didn't care. If it was a certain Manhattan newsie with cuts and bruises all over his face, it would make his day.

He pocketed his slingshot. Obviously, that wasn't going to happen, due to their last meeting.

Spot pulled off his cap, ruffled his hair in frustration, and put his cap back on his head. Why should he even care? He's the famous Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn. He has made guys twice his size cry like babies but he lets one guy tell him what to do? Not acceptable. How?

_'His eyes,' _he thought suddenly. _'Dose soulful eyes a 'is..'_

WHAT?! He was Spot Conlon. Spot Conlon didn't think eyes were "soulful". This is insane!

"I must be insane oih somet'in'," he said to himself. "Prolly got hit in da head too haid da uddahday oih somet'i'n....Yeah, dat's it."

_'Do ya awlways stare into guy's eyes when ya get hit in da head?'_ a little voice in the back of his mind asked him. _'Do ya awlways stare at guys when deah ain' lookin' when ya get hit in da head?'_

"Shuddup!" Spot suddenly exclaimed, holding his head in his hands. "Jes' shut da hell up!"

"Uh...Spot?" a small voice asked, hesitant.

Looking up from his hands, Spot saw Pint standing in front of him, one hand on the fire escape in case he had to make a quick getaway.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"Anyt'in' ya want me ta' do beforah I go?"

Spot thought for a second. "Take a wailk ovah ta' Manhattan an' see what's ovah deah."

"Manhattan, again? Why?"

Spot's eyes narrowed. "Since when did ya awl of a sudden decide ta' question me, huh?"

"No Spot! I was jes' wonderin' since I was jes' ovah deah ta'day an' awl.." Pint rambled, his green eyes wide with fright.

Spot shook his head. "Nah, ya know what? Go ta' Hailem," he said, changing his mind. "See what's goin' on ovah deah."

Pint nodded, seeming to be calmer now. "Ya got it, Spot!" he exclaimed, running down the fire escape with a smile on his face.

Spot couldn't help smirking as he turned to look out at the view. "Dat kid is somet'in'.." he muttered to himself.

"Jes' like me newsies aih ta' me," a familiar voice replied. "But chya awlways got da best boidies around, don'cha Spot?"

"Nice ta' see ya awlways know what's da stoiry, Jacky boy," Spot said, not turning around. "What brings ya ovah ta' da rockier side a town?"

"Wonderin' what ya bidness is wid some a me newsies, Brooklyn," Jack Kelly asked, his cowboy hat shading his eyes. "I would appreciate it if ya toined around but if ya wanna tawlk like dis, den fine."

After cracking his knuckles, Spot turned to face the Manhattan leader. "Maybe my bidness wid 'em ain' none a yer bidness, Jack," he replied coldly. "An' you should know wheah ya presence ain' welcomed."

"Well, when it involves anyt'in' oih anyone from Manhattan, it becomes my bidness."

"What's a mattah, Cowboy," Spot snapped. "Scaihed dat one a yer newsies ain' loyal to ya?"

Jack bitterly laughed. "Really? Ya t'ink dat I would t'ink dat Tigah would join wid da likes a you?"

Spot moved closer to Jack. "What? Is dat so impossible, not dat I'se tryin'?"

"Ya hoid what 'e said when we noticed dat 'e's Brooklyn material."

"Musta slipped me mind," Spot answered, crossing his arms.

But he remembered, clearily as if it just happened. The reason why Tiger was in Manhattan: he felt like they were his family. Something he would probably not get over here. The Brooklyn boys were like a pack of wolves most of the time; trying to beat each other and be the best.

Jack smirked, as if he knew what was going on inside Spot's head. "Yea, it musta slipped yer mind," he repeated, cocky. "Ya tried ta' get Race an' ya failed. Hate ta' break it to ya but da same t'ings gonna happen wid Tigah so ya might as well give up now."

Spot glared at the other leader. "An' ya might as well leave befoah I soak ya ta' next Tuesday."

Still smirking, Jack nodded and turned to leave. "Be happy wid what chya have, Spot."

Spot, muttering to himself, turned to look at the view once more.

***

"So heah I am, dodgin' fists left an' right, tryin' ta' figah out what ta' do an' awl of a sudden, dis big carriage comes bumpin along. T'inkin' dat dis was me only chance ta' escape, I jump on an' ride it outta deah." Tiger deeply explains, getting into the story. "An' did ya know whose carriage it was?"

Mush's eyes glint in excitement. "Whose?"

"Pulitzah, hisself."

"Dat sounds like a hunk a bull ta' me," Race comments, smiling.

Tiger looks at her friend, shocked. "Aih you cawlin' me a liah?"

Race pretends to look menacing. "So what if I am?"

"Don'cha know me at awl?"

"Yeah," Race answers, smiling. "Dat's why I'm cawlin' you out on it."

"Hey, I may 'improve da truth' a liddle," Tiger explains. "But I ain' no liah."

Sitting on the statue of Horace Greeley, Mush, Kid Blink, and Specs laughed at their two friends 'fighting' with each other. The Manhattan Newsies were conversing with each other, most waiting for the others to finish selling so they can explore

the city.

"'ey Tigah," Kid Blink asks. "'ow'd ya know dat it was Pulitizah's carriage?"

Tiger turned from Racetrack to the one-eyed newsie. "When da carriage stopped, 'e got outta da carriage an' I recognized 'im."

"Gee, what aih the chances that you hopped onto Pulitizah's carriage!" Mush thought out loud, imagining.

"Yea, an' dat 'e didn' have ya arrested foah doin' dat!" Crutchy called out, slowly walking over to them.

"It ain' like 'e saw me oih nothin'." Tiger mumbled, fixing her cap.

"We believe ya, Tigah," Kid Blink replied, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Ya know not ta' listen ta' da uddah guys."

Tiger scoffed. "I know dat."

Smiling to the others, Kid Blink grabbed Tiger's cap and ran off with it.

"'ey!" Tiger exclaimed, running after him. "Gimme back me cap, Blink!"

Kid Blink laughed and passed it to Specs, who was nearby.

"Specs, gimme me cap back oih ya in a woild a pain." Tiger threatened her friend.

"'ey, I'm not in dis." Specs replied jokingly, throwing the cap to Snipeshooter and throwing his hands up in surrender.

Tiger rolled her eyes and as soon as she saw it passed to Race, she tackled him.

"Ya better give me me cap, Racetrack Higgins!" she exclaims, pinning him to the ground.

Race struggles with his friend before rolling over and pinning her to the ground. "Nevah!" he replies, holding the cap in the air so Tiger can't reach it. "Nice try, tough guy!"

"Well, I ain' submittin' if dat's what'cha want."

"Aw, c'mon, Tigah," Race somewhat pleads. "Ya know dat dis is prolly da only time I'll evah beat cha."

Tiger laughs. "I nevah give up."

With that, Tiger pushs Race over her, making him laying on the ground and Tiger holding his shoulders down, pinning him to the ground.

"Ya nevah gonna let me win, aih ya?" Race asks, sighing.

"Nope!" Tiger happily answers, grabbing her cap and putting it on her head, covering her short, shaggy blonde hair.

"Now, ya bettah run." Race says, pushing his friend off of him.

Laughing hysterically, Tiger runs through the crowds, pushing through so that her friend won't catch her. Hearing the cheers of the newsies behind her, she quickly turns into the street. Obviously, not hearing the sounds of a speeding wagon coming towards her.

Staggering and breathing heavily, Race made it over near the street. Hearing the sounds of horses getting louder, he looked over to the street. There, he saw Tiger taking a breath, obviously not hearing the horses.

"Tigah! Get outta da way!" He tried to yell, but his voice coming out all strangled due to running for so long.

A few seconds later, he saw the carriage moving quickly towards them, Tiger right in the way.

Using the last of his strength, Race ran and pushed Tiger out of the way, making them both hit a brick wall next to the street but out of harm's way just in time.

"What da hell, Tigah?! Do ya wanna get yerself killed?" Race asked, clearly angry.

"I didn' 'ear it, awlrigh'?" Tiger replied, grateful but angry that her best friend was yelling at her.

The carriage that almost ran Tiger over came to a stop nearby the two. The carriage door opened and the person who came out suprised the two.

"Snydah."

Race looked at the well-dressed, sleazy warden getting out of the carriage, straightening his hat, looking around at the crowds. "What's 'e doin' ovah heah?"

"I...I dunno," Tiger answered, nervous.

He turned and walked towards the two, making Tiger's breath quicken drastically. Race saw her nervousness and quickly covered her with his body, pressing them against the wall, calming down his distraught friend.

As soon as Snyder walked past them without even a glance, Race looked at Tiger. "Deah a reason dat Snydah's presence made ya so noivous?"

Tiger looked down. "Nah, 'e dun' make me noivous."

"Dat's bull an' you know it."

"Den it's nothin' ya need ta' woiry 'bout," Tiger snaps, looking at her friend. "So drop it."

Race stared at her right in the eyes, looking for something to give her away. He noticed how close the two are, that his arms are situated on each side of his friend, that his eyes are really blue.. Shaking his head, Race continues to stare at Tiger.

Tiger returns the stare, their faces very close to each other. Too close, she realizes. The way they were standing near each other seemed too...intimate. Keeping her male persona, she ducks under his arm and straightens her clothes.

"We should find da guys," Tiger says, clearing her throat.

Race nods, starting to walk back.

Tiger follows quietly, passing Racetrack.

"'ey," Race begins to say, grabbing her arm.

Tiger turns and looks at him, wondering what he wanted to tell her.

He quickly drops her arm and scratches the back of his neck. "Uh, nevah mind."

Giving him a confused look, she smiles and then continues to walk away.

Race watches, wondering what happened. He stared at Tiger so intently, he could see that his friend's eyes were a nice blue, very dark but almost watery. So beautiful... Snapping out of it, he stopped himself.

_'What da hell is wrong wid chyou, Race?'_ he asked himself, shaking his head. _'Ya musta hit yer head oih somet'in'. Dat must be it. 'e ain' no goil.'_

"'ey Race!" Mush calls, standing across the street. "Ya comin' ta' Medea's wid us oih not?!"

Snapping out of it, he looks at his friend. "Yeah!" he exclaims, pulling out a cigar from his pocket and lighting it with a match he pulled out, as well. "Ya know I'se awlways up foah a trip ta' Medea's!"

Taking a drag and exhaling, Race quickly crossed the street and joined the group of newsboys. Tiger tried to joke with him but he quickly busied himself with everyone else.

_'Ya hit yer head...Just distance yerself from 'im foah awhile..' _Race thought to himself, smoking furiously.

When they reached Medea's, Race quickly indulged in a poker game, ignoring Tiger completely.

Noticing her best friend's aloofness, Tiger tried to get Race's attention. "'ey Race," she attempted. "What's goin' on wid chyou?"

Pretending to be really into the game, Race ignored her.

"Race," she started again.

"'ow's Snydah, Tigah?" he asked, interrupting.

She stopped. "Dat's not faih, Race." she said, hurt.

He just shrugged, calling whatever bet the last player put down.

Tiger scoffed and walked away, ignoring her friend.

Sitting nearby, Mush calls her over. "'ey Tigah, what's da deal between you an' Race? You two aih too tense."

Sitting down, she shrugs. "I dunno. 'e's mad at me foah some reason."

"It'll work out," he said optimistically, drapping an arm around her shoulders. "Ya awlways do."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Well, ya shouldn't dwell on it so much. You of all people should know Race can't hold a grudge foah long."

Tiger laughed. "True. T'anks, Mush."

"What da hell aih you two fightin' 'bout now?" Jack Kelly asked, sitting down next to Tiger.

"'ey Cowboy," Tiger said, greeting him. "I dunno. Somet'in' dat's wrong ta' 'im, I guess."

"Well, you'se guys'll woik it out," he confidently says. "Ya awlways do."

"Dat's what I said!" Mush said, smiling. "See? Dat means 'e'll get ovah it."

Tiger laughed. "Guess it does."

"An' ya bettah woik out chya difference quick." Jack replied.

"Why's dat?"

"'Cause I jes' found out from Kloppman dat we dun' 'ave enough beds righ' now so you an' Race aih gonna 'ave ta' shaih foah awhile."

Tiger scoffed. "Why's dat?"

Jack smiled. "'Cause you'se two get awlong so well."

"Does Race know yet?" Tiger asked, looking over at her friend.

He shook his head, slightly laughing. "Nah, you can be the one ta' tell 'im."

She looked back at the leader. "Cowboy! Cruel, much?"

Jack shrugged. "Dis was befoah I knew dat you'se guys were goin' t'rough a rough patch."

"Ya know dat chyou can still tell 'em yerself."

He thought about it for a second. "Nah, I dun' wanna." he finalized, smiling.

Tiger punched him in the shoulder. "Yer a jackass, ya know dat, right?"

"Yea, I figahed," He replied, rubbing his shoulder. "Doesn' change me mind at awl, though."

Shaking her head, she looked back to Race. "Well, I'm gonna have fun foist," she said, thinking about her plan. "An' die latah. I'll tell 'im when 'e's not tryin' ta' avoid me."

Confident in her decision, she pulled out a cigarette, took one of the matches on the table, lit it, and took a puff. "Yea," she decided, exhaling smoke, "Dat's what I'm gonna do."

---

A/N: What'd you think? Long enough? Review, s'il vous plait! -Fox


	13. Drunks and Nightmares

Chapter 13: Drunks and Nightmares

A/N: Hey guys! I am so, so, so sorry! With school, life, a little writer's block, and a few time-consuming events, I've had to put this story on the backburner for a little while. But with school ending, I will be able to update more! Woot! And thank you to all who patiently waited. I've read all your reviews and they make me smile. In response to one of the reviews, Spot and Race were acting 'strange' for a reason. I remember that Tiger is pretending she's a boy and I have reasons for what I write in my chapters. So enough of my yammering and let's get on with the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Only Tiger, this story, and any characters that were not in the movie. The rest is owned by Disney.

---

Racetrack

Oh boy this isn't what I had planned. Not at all.

So here I was, laying in an already too-small bed, listening to the sleeping noises of the other newsies with a sleeping Tiger in the same bed as me, his head resting on my

outstretched arm. You'd think it wouldn't be so bad, only that I lost any space to spread out, but it wasn't. Listening to his deep breathing was....comfortable to me. Made

me feel at ease.

How the hell did I end up here?

_After playing a few hands of poker, I began to lose any uneasy feeling that I had earlier. I guess playing cards makes me feel comfortable with myself, it's where I feel like _

_I can relax, I guess. Until Cowboy came over._

_"'ey, Race," he said, standing next to me. "'ow's da game?"_

_I only nodded in response, too absorbed in the game to give him a decent reply._

_After I called the hand before me, I heard Cowboy try to talk to me again. "So listen, I gotta tell ya somethin'..."_

_I finally looked up from my cards to look at him. To my suprise, he looked a little uneasy, his cowboy hat in his hands and him shifting on his feet. _

_This made me a little nervous and suspicious of what he was about to say. "What is it, Jack?" I asked, not used to ever seeing him nervous. Something must be up._

_"Well...I made dis decision befoah you an' Tigah had any troubles between you'se guys but I already told da guys an' I need ta' stick by it.." He began to explain, his hands playing with the edge of his hat. _

_I stood up unexpectedly, my body pushing the table back a few inches._

_"'ey, Race!" Blink exclaimed. "Watch wheah yer standin'!"_

_Instead of answering, I ignored Blink and simply stared at Cowboy. "Is Tigah goin' ta' Brooklyn?" I asked. "Queens? Da Bronx?"_

_I couldn't believe it. Even though I had completely ignored him tonight, I was scared that my best friend was going to another burough, to be with other newsies and forget about us...Namely, me. _

_Cowboy looked confused. "What?"_

_"'e's goin' ta' anodda' burough, ain' 'e?" I quickly asked, getting away from the table and quickly walking with Cowboy out the door, into the warm, fall night, away from the confused guys._

_"A coise not!" Cowboy replied, slipping the leather strings of his hat around his neck, allowing his cowboy hat to hang from his back. "I would nevah make Tigah go somewheah else!"_

_"Den what is it?!" I angrily asked, pacing back and forth, uneasy._

_"I was jes' gonna tell ya dat since we got a lotta newsies comin' in, I'm gonna 'ave you an' Tigah shaih a bed." he explained. "Dat's awl."_

_I stopped pacing and stared at him. "So..'e's not..leavin'?"_

_"If 'e was leavin', 'e would tell ya 'imself."_

_I thought about it. He probably would, if he knew..._

_"Does Tigah know?"_

_Cowboy looked confused for a second. "Yea...why?"_

_"Why isn' 'e freakin' out?" I asked. _

_"Prolly cause 'e knows not ta' freak out so easily."_

_"Den why were ya so noivous ta' tell me?"_

_Cowboy shrugged. "I didn' know 'ow'd ya react. I saw 'ow you were actin' ta'night. 'Specially wid Tigah."_

_Then it finally sunk in. "Wait..why do Tigah and me gotta shaih a bed?" _

_"'Cause I knew dat chyou guys would get awlong an' neidah a you'se guys would try ta' kill da otha' while one a you'se was sleepin'."_

_I nodded but I was wondering why he didn't pair up the younger kids or other guys who was also close. _

_"Tigah was gonna tell ya but 'e's...a liddle busy right now." Cowboy said, a slight smirk on his face._

_"What's 'e doin' now?" I asked, sighing._

_Before Cowboy could answer, a loud crash could be heard from inside, followed by a lot of yelling. Looking at each other for a second, me and Cowboy raced back inside to see what was going on. It appeared that a table was overturned, along with Tiger and a big, burly guy from Queens tackling him, both of them fighting each other on the ground, along with the other newsies yelling for it to continue._

_"Not again.." Cowboy mumbled under his breath, pushing through the growing crowd. _

_I followed him, the presence of the both of us creating a path to the fighting newsies. When we got to the center of the action, it was clear that the bigger guy had the upper hand, sitting on top of Tiger while slugging him a few times. The yelling began to quiet down as both Cowboy and me pulled the guy off of Tiger._

_"What's goin' on heah?" Cowboy asked, putting his cowboy on, going into Manhattan leader mode._

_The big guy wiped the blood dripping from his nose and he angrily stared at Cowboy. "Tigah t'ought 'e was slick, sayin' 'e could beat me."_

_Tiger, who was leaning on a worried Mush, laughed loudly. "I...could beat chya wid...one ahm tied behind me...back." Tiger slurred, swaying slightly._

_"Ya obviously couldn' beat 'im drunk, dat's foah suah." I mumbled, standing next to Cowboy._

_"Ah, shuddup Race!" Tiger exclaimed, attempting to walk towards me. "I ain' scaihed ta' soak ya good!"_

_Before he could carry out his threat, Mush pulled him back and held him up, making sure that he didn't try to get into anymore fights._

_"Ya know, you should know not ta' fight anodda newsie if ya know 'e can't 'old 'is own." Mush said, attempting to be a calm voice in this situation._

_"'e was askin' foah it," the guy said, crossing his massive arms. "'sides...I hoid what happened between 'im an' Brooklyn an' udda guys from different buroughs."_

_"'e was sobah foah dose guys!" Mush exclaimed._

_Cowboy silenced him, giving him a look that shut him up real quick. Then, he turned back to the guy from Queens. "Go home, Chailie."_

_'Charlie' gave Cowboy one last dirty look before walking out the door, a crash a few seconds later that gave us an idea that he kicked over something in anger._

_We turned our attention to our drunk friend. "Whatta ya t'ink ya doin', pickin' a fight like dis?" Cowboy asked, slipping his cowboy hat off his head._

_Tiger chuckled. "Ya know dat chyou would fight dat big goon, too."_

_"Not dis drunk, I wouldn'." Cowboy stated. "An' not ovah somethin' dis stupid."_

_"Dun'.....lie, Cowboy." Tiger slurred. _

_Cowboy rolled his eyes. "C'mon, let's get 'im back befoah 'e get soaked by anyone else."_

_"I was gonna beat 'im an' you'se guys know it." Tiger mumbled._

_"Was dat gonna 'appen befoah oih aftah 'e beat chya inta da ground?" Cowboy asked, clearly still a little angry from the whole thing._

_Tiger laughed, clearly not sensing the sarcasm due to having too many drinks. "Befoah, a coise!" _

_Mush held Tiger up as he began to walk to the door, Tiger still laughing._

_Tiger turned to me, his face bruised from the fight earlier. "I'm sorry 'bout eaihlier, Race." he began to apologize, his upset feeling heightened due to him being drunk. _

_I raised my hand to stop him as the three of us stepped into the warm, fall night, this time slower than usual. "It's awlright, Tigah," I replied. "I was bein' a real jerk."_

_But he continued. "It's awl my fault...If I 'adn't ran out onta' da road..but chyou-chyou saved me." _

_"It was nothin'." I mumbled. "You woulda done da same t'ing foah me."_

_In the dark, I could hear him sniffle. "I would..'cause yer me best friend, Race. I dun' mean ta' be a botha."_

_With that, I saw Tiger's form move from Mush's side and felt him collide into me, his sniffling form making me step back from the sudden weight._

_"Owf!" I let out, grabbing onto Tiger. "Stop yer cryin' an' let's chya back ta' da boardin' house."_

_With the help of Mush and Cowboy, we continued to walk down the street, towards the Manhattan Newsies Boardinghouse._

_Of course, not without him throwing up on me before getting into bed._

_"Damn lightweight," I mumbled as I set him down and began to go to the other end of the bed and clean myself of the throw-up, he grabbed my arm really hard, even with him too drunk to even stand up straight._

_"Race," he asked, staring at me with his bloodshot eyes, "W-will you stay ovah heah?"_

_I gave him a look. "Uh, why?"_

_"I dun' wanna....be alone."_

_I still continued to stare at him, hoping that he wasn't always like this when he's drunk. _

_With his pleading eyes boring into mine, I sighed. "Awlrigh'," I said, giving in. "Jes' lemme clean up foist."_

_He gave a half-smile, his eyes drooping with sleep. "T'anks, Race," he mumbled. "Yer a good friend."_

_I rolled my eyes. "Yea, yea, ain' I jes' da greatest?" I replied._

_After changing my clothes and washing my face, I quietly slid in next to Tiger. As soon as I was right next to him, trying to keep my distance, he turned and laid his head on my arm. _

_"G'night, Race." Tiger happily answered as he closed his eyes._

_"Yea, yea," I mumbled. _

_But he had already passed out on my arm._

Oh yeah, that's how.

I continued to think about the night's events as Tiger shifted in his sleep, mumbling as he moved. It seemed he was dreaming but as his movements became more violent, I could tell that his dream was turning into a nightmare.

"No, I won'...! Get away from me! Dun'...no!" he began to almost yell, thrashing from side to side.

I grabbed onto him, trying to keep him from falling off the bed. "Shh!" I quietly tried to keep him quiet and from waking up everyone.

His movements were less violent but he kept yelling. "No! No! Get offa me!" he continued, trying to push an imaginary person who was obviously trying to hurt him.

"Tigah!" I whispered. "Relax! No one's tryin' ta' hoit chya!"

As I kept whispering, he quieted down, his thrashing movements stopping altogether.

I stopped whispering but kept my hold on him, in case he started yelling and all that again. Being a newsie, you get used to screaming in the night and how to handle it.

Luckily, no one barely lifted their head to the noise. I breathed a sigh of relief as I kept my arms held tight around my friend, in case he began to have a nightmare again.

But he did something worse.

Tiger turned, his face facing mine, and wrapped his arms around me, breathing a sigh as he kept his own hold around me.

Oh, great.

This turned from a 'keep-my-friend-from-falling-off-the-bed-and-waking-up-everyone' situation into a 'Racetrack, the teddy bear' one.

This isn't awkward at all.

I slowly loosened my hold on Tiger's shoulders as I attempted to quietly pull myself out of Tiger's grasp. But he, of course, had a death grip on me and refused to let go, even in his sleep.

Damn.

I looked around, seeing if anyone was awake. Luckily, everyone was knocked out so we wouldn't be the targets to any guys thinking they can make fun of us for the rest of time. Besides, they wouldn't have any teeth left if that happened.

I happily thought of the ways of torture me and Tiger could come up with until...Until IT happened.

Tiger brought me closer to himself, bringing his face closer to mine. And sighed.

No, no, no. Please let this be a nightmare. Please let this be a nightmare.

After shaking my head and closing and opening my eyes a few times, I knew that this was no nightmare.

I was just in my own personal Hell.

He was so close....I should be pushing him away right now but...I didn't want to.

The moonlight from the window shined down on his face, making his face look more well-defined, more innocent. It made his skin look unearthly bright and smooth. It practically looked like white stone....

Wait, what the hell am I even talking about? I shouldn't be thinking about this. I'm NOT going to be thinking about this.

But as soon as I looked back at him, any idea of not thinking about him disappeared. I gave a little smile as Tiger continued to sleep, his deep breath giving me the relaxation I needed, the feeling of his warm breath on my face.

I slowly wrapped my arms back around him and shifted to make myself more comfortable. I rested my head on the pillow space above him, my chin almost resting on the top of his head.

As I closed my eyes and slowly let sleep take over, I had one last thought:

_My best friend is going to drive me insane._

---

So there you have it! A little shorter than you guys might be used to but I really wanted to get this chapter out and it hopefully wasn't too cheesy, lame, or weird for you guys. I know Race didn't have an accent when not talking but I figured he shouldn't have his accent in his thoughts. And remember: I write characters and the plotline the way they are for a reason. Review, please! -Fox


	14. The Day After

Chapter 14: The Day After

A/N: So I decided to update a little more recently than usual. I know, oh my goodness! Anyway, I'm happy with all the feedback. I appreciate all the comments (you guys make me happy on the inside =D ) and I will try to make this chapter longer than usual so bear with me! -Fox

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Sadly, Disney does. I just own this story and some of the characters in it.

---

Tiger

I felt the beginning of the warm, sun rays shine on my face as I slowly began to edge into consciousness. Immediately, though, I felt as if someone had taken a huge hammer to my head, making the warm sun become my worst enemy. I kept my eyes closed as I quietly groaned, feeling the aches spread throughout my body, awakening apparent injuries that I had received earlier.

As I kept my eyes closed, I painfully asked myself, _"What happened last night?"_

Beer. Lots and lots of beer. A big guy punching me. Something about Race. And...

I tried to shake my head of the memory but it flooded back to me, almost as painfully as the aches and pains I had now:

_It was very cold and dark. So dark that I could barely see my trembling hand in front of my face and it was so quiet that all I could hear were my ragged breaths. I could feel my body shaking with the combination of anxiety, pain, and the cold as I leaned against the brick wall in the small room, waiting for the inevitable. I prayed that this wouldn't happen tonight but, as always, I knew my prayers would not be answered. He would come and there was no way to stop him. If I tried to fight him off, his men would either hold me down or the chains that encircled my wrists would weigh down my already-weakened body to the point that I would have no way to stop him._

_Almost as if on a timed schedule, I heard the familiar steps of a heavy man's shoes walk towards my cell, a small light shining through the bars, blinding me due to being in the dark for so long. I tried to cover my face and shield myself from the light but my arms were too weak to hold up. So I waited. Waited for the never-ending pain to begin._

_I kept an emotionless face as I saw the lamp and Mr. Snyder, the man holding it, open the heavy door to my cell, a slight smirk on his face. _

"_Hello Tiger," he smoothly said, looking at me, probably in anticipation._

"_Wha' Snydah?" I quietly asked, sarcastic. "None 'a yer friends comin' ta' join in dis time?"_

_He darkly chuckled. "Oh," he replied. "They're coming."_

_Like they were conjured, several pairs of boots sounded as they made their way in our direction, making me cringe._

"_You didn't think they would miss this, now would you?"_

_I just stared at Snyder as the small group of men, reeking of cloves and cheap liquor, stepped into the tiny room. _

_I sighed. "So, who's foist?" I asked, just wanting for this to be over._

_Without an answer, I felt a swift hit to my head, like someone just kicked me. I slumped down on my wall, dazed, as the group of men chortled as if I just told them the greatest joke in the world. _

"_Aw, c'mon Tigah," I heard one of the men say. "Yer makin' dis too easy."_

_Still dazed, I squinted in the direction of the voice. "It ain' haid kickin' a guy when 'e's gotta disadvantage, Tank," I replied._

_I felt the chains around my wrist give way as Snyder bent down, obviously careful as to not get his expensive suit dirty to unlock them. _

"_Now, you don't." Snyder sneered, absolutely interested to see what was yet to come._

_I slowly and shakily got up, clenching my fists and keeping them near my sides._

"_It's moah fun when ya at least try," Tank mocked, knowing the outcome as well as I did. _

_Tank was a pretty big guy, some muscle but mostly fat, a red face due to his constant drinking, and wispy brown hair that had a brown hat that covered the bald spot on the top of his head. His clothes were covered with grease, dirt, and probably soaked in sweat. He towered over me, cracking his knuckles in anticipation, the other guys behind him smiling about the hilarity of the match-up._

_After shaking my head a little to try to clear the pain from being kicked, I put up my fists to start._

_He swung first with a right hook, hoping to get me with another single blow. Luckily, I ducked quickly to dodge the fist and punched his large gut with my left fist. He stumbled back, doubled over from the pain. _

_I happily watched for one second before I was grabbed by one of the men who had unseeingly snuck behind me, painfully pinning my arms back, keeping one at an awkward angle._

_I cried out in pain. It felt like he was going to break my arm any second. That left me distracted and vulnerable against the other men, which they soon took advantage of. I couldn't stop the blows to my face, stomach, chest, legs, head, anywhere where they could inflict damage. _

_I struggled in the man's grasp. "No! Get offa me!" I began to yell, thrashing in his arms, making my arms hurt even more. "Get away! No!" _

_But they kept beating the tar out of me, getting to the point where it hurt me to even breathe. _

"_Just give up, Tiger," Snyder said, standing calmly near the door. "It will make this much easier for you." With that, I heard the cell door shut with a booming, final 'BAM'._

"_No, I won'!" I protested, trying to loosen the grasp on my arms and defend myself from the blows. "Dun'...no! No! Get offa me!" I yelled, struggling._

_But I soon felt the punches and blows melt away with the scenery as I felt a calming feeling wrap around me, making me feel safe and protected. The pains and the coldness drifted away as I felt like I was being filled with this warming sensation filled me. _

_I looked around to see where I was. It was a bright area, almost too painful for me to open my eyes. But it was calm, peaceful and, after a second, it felt like I didn't need to attempt to shield my eyes at all. Although it was just white around me, I thought of this place as one of beauty and tranquility. Then, I knew that I was safe and nothing would harm me. Not here, not now. Here, I just stayed until I felt the feelings of unconsciousness fade away as the warmth dwelled on my face and I began to feel the surroundings of reality settle in._

I reminisced about the last part of my dream that started out with my nightmare. I really, really didn't want to open my eyes. But when I heard a sigh and felt a small gush of warm air hit my face, I finally forced my eyes open. What I saw in front of me surprised me so much, I had to swallow back an audible gasp.

My best friend, Racetrack Higgins, had his face facing mine in a very close distance between each other. But what bothered me the most was the fact that his arms were loosely wrapped around my body, as if to keep me safe.

I glanced around the room, checking on the other newsies. Thankfully, they were still sleeping, the snores and sleeping murmurs evidence of that.

I looked back at Race. He seemed so peaceful, younger and more carefree. Almost as if this was a face of a young, innocent boy with a family rather than the face of a wise-cracking newsie with a lifetime filled with hardships. I smiled at the idea.

Being careful to not wake him, I slowly and quietly began to ease out of his embrace until-

BANG! I hit the floor with a loud clatter due to me rolling. I guess I rolled too much and went off the bed. I bit back a string of swears and pain-filled groans as I quickly looked around the room with my now tear-filled eyes, stinging as a result of the fall.

But it was as if nothing happened. The boys and Race slept on, maybe one stirred slightly before rolling to the other side and continuing to sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief as I painfully got up and hobbled to the bathroom, my hands rubbing my temples in hopes to get rid of my awful headache.

As I turned on a sink, I hesitantly looked in the mirror and stared at my supposed reflection in horror. My left eye was swollen, making it seem like there was a slit of space that I could see out of. Following the bruises and dried blood, that I'm not even sure was mine, on my face and neck, I felt a dull pain around my rib cage. Hesitantly, I lifted up my shirt to see a dark purple bruise covering almost the entire front of my rib cage. I doubted that anything was broken, just badly bruised so I focused on the worst of the damage: my swollen face. Taking a washcloth, soap, and warm water, I gently dabbed at my face in hopes of at least cleaning it or making any type of swelling to go down. After a few minutes, most of the dirt and dried blood was gone but the swelling had not gone down at all.

Swearing softly, I put a hand through my short, dirty hair in frustration. Giving up on what to do right now, I focused more on another pressing matter at hand: changing before any of the guys woke up. I moved quickly back to my area next to the bed with the sleeping Race on it, quickly grabbing a pair of gray pants that used to be Jack's, black suspenders, a white shirt, a gray-and-white-striped vest, my only pair of shoes and a gray cap that used to belong to Race and walked back into the bathroom, taking off the clothes that I had kept on from yesterday and adjusted the binding on my chest. After years of needing to bind my chest, I was able to fix the bind so I wouldn't suffocate and, as quickly as I could, put on my clothes for the day, wincing as I had to bend down and lightly brushed the bruises on my body.

Just as I finished the tedious task, I heard Kloppman's familiar voice getting louder as he walked from the top of the stairs to the bunk room.

"Get up! Time ta' sell, boys!" he yelled, his voice sounding even louder after the almost quiet area for that long period of time. "Ain't no time ta' be dreamin'! Sell the papers!"

Hearing the groaning and mumblings of the groggy newsies, I walked back into the room, rubbing my head as his voice echoed in my pain-filled head.

"'ey, Tigah," I heard Blink mumble as he sat up in his bunk. "Enjoyin' yer hangover?"

I groaned in response. I really didn't want to hear it today.

"Prolly moih den 'e's enjoyin' dat shinah 'e got from Chailie."

I looked to see Cowboy getting off his bed and stretching and I grimaced.

"Did I really fight dat big goon?" I asked, making a face.

He nodded. "'ad ya awlready pinned ta' da ground befoah me an' Race jumped in."

"I doubt I could soak anybody last night," I replied, rubbing my head. "Dis hangovah jes' proves it."

"Yea, I doubt dat chyou would need ah help any udda' nigh'," I heard Race's voice speak up behind me. "Ya do need ta' maintain yer reputation an' awl."

I turned and smirked. "Yea, ya know I dun' need nobody's help," I lied, straightening my cap. The truth was, I needed Race, no matter if I was getting soaked or just another matter.

I thought back to the warm light from my dream that saved me from my nightmare. He reminded me of that, always to shield from harm no matter what.

"'ey Tigah," Mush asked, breaking my thoughts, "You okay to sell ta'day?"

I scoffed. "A coise," I replied. "One shinah ain' gonna put me outta bu'iness."

After the rest of the boys finished getting ready, which everyone had stopped asking me why I got up so early sometimes. Just grumblings of being an 'eoily-risah' would follow with a look to my appearance. With that, we all headed out to the circulation office, some hoping for a good headline.

Cowboy shook his head at the hopefuls. "What do I awlways tell you'se guys?"

"'Headlines dun' sell papes, newsies sell papes,'" the newsies blankly recited in unison.

"'ey, I'se jes' tryin' ta' give you'se guys a good education," he replied, scowling.

I laughed. "C'mon, Jack. We awl know da chyer da best." With that, we reached the office in Newsies Square, getting in the short line for our papers.

Cracking jokes with other newsies, I finally reached the head of the line, Weasel in front of the window.

"'ey Weasel," I said, smirking, "What's da stoihry ta'day?"

Weasel grimaced. "How many times do I gotta tell you newsies that it's.."

"Dun' bodda cause we dun' listen," I interrupted. "'ow 'bout...thoity papes?"

With a angry look, he takes my money and practically throws the papers at me. I give him a small salute and walk off, looking at the papers, and leaned against the edge of the dock.

"Ya t'ink you can sell moih papes wid dat shinah a yers?" Race asked, sitting next to me, putting a cigarette in his mouth.

I shrugged, still looking at the papers. "Depends on wheah we sell ta'day."

"'ow 'bout da streets befoah da paik?"

I look up from the papers. "Why deah?"

He shrugs. "Moih women might be deah who might feel sorry foah ya."

Giving him a look, I shrug. "Awlrigh'."

Tucking our papers under an arm, Race and I begin to walk down the streets, towards Central Park.

"'Affaih in high oiffice!'" I shout. "'Respected, wealthy man lives life in sin!"

I stop to sell a paper to two women when I hear something odd in the morning crowd-filled street. I turn to see who's behind me. A brown-eyed brunette wearing a frilly pink dress and her hair up in a bun who looks to be about 15 or 16 is standing behind me, giggling.

"Er," I begin to ask, confused. "Somet'in' I can 'elp ya wid, miss?"

She smiles and shakes her head, still giggling.

I give her a quick confused look before putting my papers back under my arm and walking away with Race.

A few minutes later, after we stop for Race to sell a paper, I hear another giggle. The same obnoxious giggle. I turn to see the same girl, giving me a look and smiling.

I turn to Race. "I t'ink deah's somet'in' wrong wid dat goil," I somewhat whisper, not looking back. "I t'ink she's followin' us."

He looks back and gives me a smirk. "I t'ink she's followin' you," he joked, nudging me in the ribs.

I let out a small yelp, wrapping the arm that didn't have papers around my middle, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to take a breath.

Race immediately stopped, shocked at my reaction. "Tigah!" he exclaimed, looking at my recovering self. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nuttin'," I tried to reassure him. "Nuttin's wrong."

A high-pitched gasp was heard behind us. "You poor thing!" The voice said. "Did he hurt you that badly?"

With the best of my ability, I narrowed my eyes (or eye, since I couldn't really do that with the other eye with the shiner) and turned to see the same girl with the same frilly pink dress, now with a look of pity on her face. "A coise not!" I snapped. "Jes' got in a bad fight, dat's awl."

The unknown girl walked over to put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Are you sure?"

I angrily shrugged her hand away. "Suah as I'll evah be!" I looked at her for a second. "Wha' do ya t'ink yer doin', anyway?"

She smiled and looked at the ground for a second. "I saw you walking and I was curious about boys like you.."

"'Boys like me?' An' what is exactly 'like me'?" I asked, still in an angry mood.

She shyly looked up at me, clearly not scared to be talking to me. "Newsboys. Boys that fight all the time and have the injuries to show for it..." she took a second, "I think that's almost admirable."

I gave her a look. Clearly, something was wrong with her. "'Admirable'?" I sarcastically asked. "Wakin' up in da mornin' an' not knowin' wheah ya got da new shinah oih wheah da blood on yer shoit came from is 'admirable'?"

She looked down at the ground again, not saying anything this time.

"I fight ta' survive," I continued, not swayed. "Not ta' show owf oih jes' foah kicks but because I have ta'."

The girl hadn't moved an inch. I sighed. "What's yer name?" I asked, trying to move past my bad mood.

She looked up, clearly not put off by my anger. "Celia."

I nodded. "Pretty."

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

I paused for a second. "Tigah."

Celia gave me a look. "'Tiger'? Is that your real name?"

"Da only name ya need ta' know."

She nodded and put her hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Tiger."

I unwrapped the arm from around my middle and shook her hand. "Nice ta' meet chya."

Race cleared his throat, careful to not nudge me again.

I turned, all of a sudden aware of his presence. "We should go back ta' sellin, shouldn' we, Race?"

Celia looked at Race. "Your name's 'Race'?"

He nodded. "Shoit fer Racetrack." He smirked. "Pleasure ta' meet chya, Celia." With that, he gently grabbed her hand and kissed it, making her slightly blush and look away, giggling.

I rolled my eyes. "We got papes ta' sell Race," I jokingly said. "You can gaiwk at pretty goils latah."

With a nod of my head, Race and I turned and began to walk down the street.

"Wait!" I heard her exclaim, the sound of her running footsteps coming towards us. We turned to see Celia there, some of her brown hair out of her bun, covering her left eye and she smiled. "DO you mind if I stay with you two for a little while? I won't be a bother. I swear."

Me and Race looked at each other for a second before I nodded. "Suah," I replied, shifting my papers. "You can get a foist class education from two 'a da most clevah newsies in New Yoik."

"It ain' jes' about a headline," Race continued as we walked down the street. "It's about how ya act when ya sell."

"So are you calling yourselves con artists?" Celia asked, looking confused.

We both shrugged. "We give ya a product," I continued. "Jes' in a different way den uddahs."

"How?"

We both looked at each other and smiled. "You'll see."

With that, we continued their walk to the streets near Central Park in hopes to earn some money with a new person tagging along.

At a corner before we reached the park. "Awlrigh'," Race inspected, seeming to be pleased. "Dis looks like a good spot."

Celia stared at Race in awe. "A spot to sell?"

I scoffed. "Nah, a spot foah me ta' sit heah an' twiddle me thumbs."

Race chuckled before continuing. "Tigah, you stay heah an' I'm gonna go ovah a street oih two."

"Er, Race?" I asked, giving him a look. "What about..ya know?"

He looked at Celia, then back at me. "I figah she could stay wid ya foah a liddle while since yer so 'admirable'."

I gave him an angry look that shut him up quickly. "Whatevah," I replied, giving up. "As loing as I sell somet'in', I guess."

Race nodded at me, winked at Celia, and walked around the corner.

I shook my head. "Whatevah," I muttered under my breath.

"_Extry! Extry!_" I exclaimed, hoping to draw a crowd. "_Respected man goes against morals an' virtue! Spawn a' Satan oih defoimed man?!_"

Celia watched silently as I sold a few papers to a few passersby.

After a few minutes, I looked back at her. "So what made ya wanna spend da day wid not only a strangah but a newsie at dat?"

She shrugged. "It seems like an interesting life."

"Ta' wha'?" I asked, selling another paper while still talking to her. "Starvin' an' barely makin' a decent livin' is interestin' ta' ya?"

"Well," she replies, watching the people walk past, "I sort of know a newsboy..."

I looked back at her. "What's 'is name?" I asked. "Maybe I hoid a' 'im oih somet'in'."

Celia looked down at the ground. "Er," she fumbled, nudging at the ground with the toe of her boat. "I don't really know his name."

I scoffed. "Wow, you'se guys must be real good pals, den," I answered, sarcastic. "Bet dat chyou aih da best a' friends."

"I see him every day. He has the air around him that just sort of makes me do whatever he says.."

"...Like 'is cold, blue eyes control yer every move." I finished for her, looking out to the street.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, like I was the first person who understood. "Do you know who I'm talking about?"

"Spot Conlon of Brooklyn."

"How do you know him?"

I turned to her, my face emotionless. "Let's jes' say dat 'e can t'row a mean right hook."

Celia gasped. "You fought him?!"

I nodded. "Newsies fight each uddah awl da time," I explained, smirking. "One guy gets soaked an' da uddah wins."

"So it's just a...?"

"Strictly foihmal relationship wid 'im." I answer. "'e's Brooklyn, weah Manhattan."

"Does anyone think that it's wrong?"

I scoffed. "What? Ta' not be awl buddy-buddy wid 'im?"

"No," she answers, looking right into my eyes. "To let one boy beat up a girl who's pretending to be a boy."

---

A/N: So, what'd you think? Guaranteed this is the longest chapter with over 4,000 words and about 9 pages long on my computer. I introduced a new character (and more will be on the way and some 'old' characters will re-visit our Tiger) and let you have a peek at Tiger's old life. For clarification, NO, she was NOT raped or sexually abused. This story is T-rated and I am intending to keep it that way. Just to clear that up with anyone. More on the way as school is coming to a close and I have more free time on my hands. Review, por favor! -Fox


	15. Possible Revelations

Possible Revelations

A/N: I...can't even begin to apologize for my supposed abandoning. I have thought a lot of this story but Time, Life and computer viruses have stood in the way of that. Good news: I know how I want to go through the story, finish it (we got a long way to go) and write another story. Possibly. I think my mind was blocking me from doing anything else until I decided to rewrite this new chapter and finish it up and Tiger would be the shit out of me if I didn't. So without further stalling...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story and all original characters, Newsies is owned by Disney.

_"No," she answers, looking right into my eyes. "To let one boy beat up a girl who's pretending to be a boy."_

Tiger POV

I stared at this girl, wondering how she knew and why. I had kept my cover for so long to not have it blown over some girl I just met.

Before I could answer, Racetrack found us again, as if by magic. "'ey Tigah," he started, taking his cigar out of his pocket and swinging it around like some hotshot. "I'se wonderin'."

"I'm takin' a spot fatha from da paik ta'day," I interrupted, brushing off this weird encounter. "See ya latah, Race," With that and a small tip of my cap to Celia, I walked away leaving them and, hopefully, my troubles behind me.

"Alrigh', Tigah," I heard Race say behind me. Celia remained silent. Just like I hoped she would.

Let's just say Celia didn't put me in a selling mood, hungry or not. I needed some time to think and clear my head. There was just no way...could there be?

A sudden whistle pulled me out of my daze. I looked around to find that I had crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and on the outskirts of that part of town without even noticing where my feet were taking me.

And Spot Conlon and Pint were waiting for me by a flight of stairs on the side of an abandoned building. Only the latter looked happy to see me.

"'ey, Tigah!" Pint yelped excitedly, circling me like an over-hyped puppy. "Whatcha doin' ovah heah?"

I looked around, scratched my head and shrugged. "I was walkin' an' I guess dis is wheah me feet wanted ta' go."

Spot's eyes flickered to my stack of papes. "Wid papes, I sees."

"Oh, dese t'ings?" I asked nonchalantly, shifting the stack. "Heah," I said, tossing the stack to the King of Brooklyn, not thinking that I was throwing away hard-earned money. "I decided ta' take da day owf ta'day."

Spot's face had a hint of surprise before hardening again. "Bold move."

I mentally cursed myself before nodding. "It's what I do."

"C'mon Tigah," Pint exclaimed, taking my arm and dragging me towards the heart of Brooklyn.

I let the small boy drag me into the bowels of Brooklyn with it's reigning Newsie King following, my papes in his hand. Why not? I'm already going to starve.

Race POV

So I was selling papes, Celia by my side, when she asked me. "How long have you known Tiger?"

"Enough," I answered, selling a few papes to some elderly women and tipping my cap to them. "Why do'ya ask?"

"I'm just asking." She nervously replied, twirling some fallen strands from her bun. "He seems..different."

"Ain't we awl?"

Celia giggled, covering her smile with her palm. I gently moved her hand and and smiled. "Dun' covah dat smile." She blushed.

"He..." she started, deep in thought. "reminds me of someone."

"Who?"

She shrugged. "Someone I kind of knew once."

"An' 'is name was...?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"HER," she corrected, "name was Elizabeth."

I sold a pape to a man walking by and stopped at her comment. "Ya bettah not be tellin' Tigah dat 'e reminds ya of a goil."

Celia continued to twirl her hair, shaking her head. "Oh, no, no!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't dare but he...reminds me of her a bit."

"'ow?"

"Elizabeth was a stubborn person," she started, looking at me. "Never backing down. I didn't know her that well or for very long, but I remember her getting in fights and playing with the boys on the streets sometimes. She grew up with just her father.

"They seemed really close and then, he died and she just...disappeared." Celia finished, looking saddened.

"Wow," I said, adjusting my cap on my head. "Dat's real haid."

She nodded. "I never what happened to her." She smiled. "But she was a strong person from what I could see."

"Sounds like some a ouih Newsies," I replied. "Now.." I said, changing the sad subject, "'eah's 'ow we can really sell some papes t'day.."

Tiger POV

The water felt good on my bare feet as my legs dangled from the docks. The Brooklyn boys apparently didn't work today or they finished early so they decided to spend some time swimming on the docks. As the boys in various states of undress jumped and threw each other the ledge into the water below, I watched my feet dangle off the side, myself getting splashed by the water that flew in the air, cooling me off from the increasingly hot sun.

The brown-haired fireball ran up to me, about to jump into the refreshing water. "'ey, Tigah!"

I chuckled to myself. "Yeah, Pint?" I asked, still looking at my feet.

"'ow come ya ain' swimmin'?

"'Cause I dun feel like it."

But his questions still came, being cute for the small size he is. "Why?"

I looked up at me and smirked. "Jes go 'ave fun, kid," I answered, messing his mess of a hair affectionately and pussed him towards the group of boys.

Pint sighed, clearly not satisified. "Okayyyy." he answered before running off to join his friends and newsboy brothers.

"Ya can't do it, can ya?" An unexpected but familiar voice said.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Do what?"

"Swim."

I turned around. "A coise I can."

Spot Conlon, sitting smug on his thrown, scepter in hand, gave me a look. "Den do it."

"Why should I try ta' prove dat ta' da likes a you?" I asked, resting on a wooden pillar to see him.

Spot just looked through me with those eyes of his, engaging me in a silent stand-off.

"If ya want me gone, jes' say da woids, Spot." I replied, staring back.

He remained silent, almost stubborn in a way.

I stood up, choosing for the 'infamous' Spot Conlon.

Well, until I felt a strong, human body tackle me into the water below.

I really wish someone had taught me how to swim.

A/N: Still trying to get back in the groove of things. Probably not my best work but I wanted to finally put this chapter up and continue the story to finish and show that I'm still alive. Reviews and I am so sorry, guys! 3 Fox


	16. Saves From A Watery Grave

A/N: Yes, I know that rhymed; Get the giggles out. You good? Okay, so recap: Our incognito heroine took a forced, unneeded dip at the docks. Let's see what happens...Oh and I really, really appreciate the support from you guys who didn't give up on this story. It really makes me smile! So let's get to it.

Disclaimer: Newsies is owned by Disney, not me. I only have this story and original characters from it.

* * *

Water.

Nothing.

Just...water.

Invading every crevice it could find, blinding me, rendering me breathless as my lungs inhaled water after my body touched down, still trying to recover from the earlier impact. My entire body, submerged. Underneath the surface, I could hear the distant shouts and cheers from the boys as they played in the area that would soon be my grave but they felt eons away from me. The water was the only thing I could think about. My fight to keep my head above water was rendered unnoticed and useless, the splashing made in my attempt to float were covered by the jumps of boys who knew what they were doing, unlike myself.

Eyes shut, I felt my body move with the unnatural currents until I felt a collision with a different solid this time, more solid than human flesh. As I reached out to touch the unknown, I felt familiar wood graze from fingertips. A pillar underneath the dock!

I desperately grabbed at this inanimate savior, pulling myself up in hopes to find some air and stability to stay away from the depths. I bobbed up and gasped for air as my head broke the surface, lungs greeted by the burning of the cold, familiar air as I wrapped my body around the pillar.

The terror only lasted a few miniscule minutes but to me, it felt like a lifetime.

I opened my water-stung eyes, looking around to see what was going on as I continued to hug the pillar, coughing from the water that invaded my lungs. Did anyone notice that I never bobbed back up or that I even hit the water in such an unnatural way?

Who the hell hit me anyway?

"Soiry, Tigah!" A familiar child's voice called from behind me. "I didn' know ya couldn' swim."

I cautiously turned my head, body still holding onto the wood tightly. "It's awlrigh', Pint," I gasped, the coughing spell over and my breathing almost back to normal. "Ya toight it would be funny and, uh...dat's awlrigh'."

Pint, smaller and younger but obviously more experienced at the whole swimming thing, floated with no extra help as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Ya need some help deah?" He asked, starting to swim over to me.

"No!" I exclaimed, fixing my grip. "I mean...I t'ink I'se jes' gonna hang ovah heah for da moment."

"Oh," the young boy replied. "If ya need help, jes' lemme know, kay?"

I just nodded, leaning my head against a piece of the dock's support. I heard Pint swim away, his excited yelps joined the chorus of the Brooklyn Newsboys in their swim.

I sighed, closing my eyes in exhaustion and my body wrapped around the pillar, shivering as the breeze met my soaking self. Taken down by a child; How wonderful.

How long I stayed like this, I don't know. I guess it was relaxing in a way, near drowning experience and freezing coldness aside.

"Ah ya jes' gonna hang deah awl day oih...?" A voice that was familiar, but wasn't Pint's, asked.

My eyes shot open in surprise, my soaking body shivering and teeth chattering. I didn't even hear him jump into the water. Hell, it was kinda quiet now. "W-w-why sho-o-uld you cai-h-h?" I annoyingly stuttered, not looking at the amused speaker.

Spot Conlon darkly chuckled. "Jes' a toight."

"Well," I answered, annoyed and freezing, "It se-e-ems like y-yous Brooklyn Boys do lotsa t'in-nkin'; Whatta surprise!"

I heard the water splash around as the King of Brooklyn swam to the pillar that I still pathetically clung to and smirked. "Ta'day's full a surprises, includin' dat a tough Newsie like you's don' know how ta' swim."

Shivering, I shrugged. Well, the best I could while clinging to a wooden pillar which probably gave Spot a few laughs for later on.

Spot propelled his body towards me and attempted to pull one of my arms away from the support but was locked in a death grip. "Relax, Tigah." He said, amused but serious as he looked me in the eyes. "I ain' gonna let'cha drown."

Sniffled, I laughed as best I could in my cold misery. "Suah," I replied sarcastically. "A-an' I'se supposed ta' believ-v-e you?"

"Would ya rathah trust me foah a minute or stay heah until who da 'ell knows when?"

"Pint said 'e would help me."

Spot smirked. "Wha' good is 'e ta' you's if 'e left awlready?"

I stared at Spot in disbelief. "'e didn'!"

Spot chuckled. "'Fraid so. In fact, awl da boys aih awlready gone."

I looked around, hoping to see someone, ANYONE, other than Spot. Even Clash, the Newsie who was the cause of my first Brooklyn encounter, would've been more promising. But he was right; As far as I could see, we were the last two left.

My luck was just getting better and better every second.

"So..." Spot continued, floating above the surface of the water like a pro. "Whatcha gonna do?"

I glared at him before hesitantly peeling an arm from my makeshift life preserver. "Only 'cause dis is da only way ta' get outta heah."

Spot took my arm, supporting my body even though he had support himself too. I slowly let go of the pillar, allowing Spot to hold my soaking body to his bare chest with my arms in front of me, keeping our bodies at a more comfortable distance. As he propelled us from under the dock and to the rope left hanging, I glared. "Jes' because ya helped me don' mean I like ya."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Spot answered, rolling his eyes.

He used one arm to grab at the rope, pulling us closer to the side. He looked into my eyes, waiting.

"Uh, you go foist," I replied, using one of my arms to grab onto the rope as well.

He shrugged. "If ya insistin'." With that, he let go of my body and hoisted himself up the rope, climbing to the dock surface above.

I looked away, somewhat embarrassed as I saw that the only thing the King of Brooklyn was wearing were red long johns that...clung.

"Yer toin."

I used my entire body to climb, shivering now than ever since my body was fully out of the water. After a small pause and some climbing, I saw a hand reach down towards me to help me up. I took it hesitantly and was surprised at how strong Spot was while helping me the rest of the way. Y'know in, uh..., third-party way.

As I climbed over, my weakened legs failed me and left me to hit the deck in a clumsy fashion.

Of course.

I stayed on the deck floor, looking up at the sky and hoping the sun would warm me up. Scantily clad Spot sat next to me, his wet dirty blonde hair draped over one of his eyes. "Have fun?" he asked, reaching over to his pile of clothes, cane resting on the top, and pulled out a cigarette and matches. I watched as he struck the match, lighting the cigarette and took a puff, throwing the match over the side.

"So..." he replied, the smoke coming out of his mouth and nose like some medieval dragon. "Have fun?"

"Oh yea," I scoffed. "Loads."

Spot reached to the side and picked up a soaking wet cap. "Heah ya go," he replied, throwing it onto my body, bits of water from it splashing onto my face. "Dis fell when you...fell."

I picked my cap off my chest and lightly tossed it onto the wood next to me. "T'anks, I guess." I sat up and grabbed the cigarette out of Spot's fingers, taking a long drag from it. I tilted my head upwards, blowing the smoke into the sky. "It ain' every day dat chya almost drown." I said, handing the cigarette back to him.

We stayed on the docks quietly for a bit, taking in the view of the city and the sounds that accompanied it, until he noticed my slight shivering.

"You warmin' up at awl?"

I nodded, hugging my knees to my chest. "A coise."

Spot moved a little closer, passing the cigarette back to me after taking a drag. "Let's hope ya don' catch somethin'."

"You wouldn' caih if I died." I scoffed, taking a small drag, our smoke mingling with each other and passed it back.

"No, I'd caih," he replied. "'Cause Jacky-boy would blame me an' rip me a new one."

I looked at him, a smirk on my face. "Wha'?" I asked, amused. "You afraid a Cowboy?"

"Nah but we's got a understandin' wid each udda."

"An' da understandin' is ta' not 'ave a 'and in a newsboy's death?" I sarcastically commented, grabbing the cigarette back.

"Somet'in' like dat." he answered, lying down with one arm propping his head up.

"Whatevah keeps da soaks at bay." I replied, passing him the small nub that was the shared cigarette and lied down.

Spot took the last puff before flicking the object into the water below, lying on the dock completely. We feel into silence once more, staring at the blue sky above, lost in our own world.

What an odd pair I bet we looked like; a scantily clad Brooklyn kid and a soaking wet Manhattan kid.

But I wouldn't have traded that moment for anything else in the world.

* * *

A/N: That was fun, wasn't it? Post some reviews, my lovely newsies! -Fox


	17. Hurtful Reunion

Chapter 17: Hurtful Reunion

A/N: Newsies is owned by the Disney Corporation and I own nothing. Let's see where this chapter takes us.

_Racetrack_

"_Where the hell is this chump?" _I asked myself, wandering around the boarding house, certain that a certain friend of mine was nowhere to be found.

"'ey Race," I heard a kid yell over to me.

I turned and spotted Boots sitting on the staircase, trying to get his bag of marbles back from Skittery who was pretending to bolt with them. "'ey kid," I answered, still keeping my eyes peeled for Tiger. "You seen Tigah anywheres?"

"I thought I saw 'im makin' 'is way ovah ta' Brooklyn." Skittery interrupted, letting Boots grab the marbles back. "But I coulda jes' been seein' t'ings."

"Brooklyn? W'as 'e doin' ovah t'ere foah? The Brooklyn boys don' seem ta' like 'im too much."

Skittery just shrugged. "I sees 'em as I sees 'em."

I rolled my eyes until Boots spoke up. "You want me ta' go with ya, Race?"

"Suah, Boots," I said, lighting myself a cigar and taking a puff. "Don' feel like hoofin' it deah alone."

Skittery watched us make our way to the front door. "Wha', Race? Ya scaihed yer buddy don' like you no more?"

"No one likes _Brooklyn_ more den me." I responded, shooting him my best grin before following Boots outside and towards the Bridge.

We were making our way silently until Boots decided to ask something. "Who was that goil you was with ta'day?"

"Jes' some goil. Why?"

"Jes' askin'. Is she yer goil?"

I gave him a look. "'Ey," I said, straightening my cap. "I gots lotsa goils."

"Don't seem like it." Boots shot back, a smirk on his face. "All I sees you do is hang around wid Tigah and he don't count." He took a second before speaking again. "Or does he?"

I turned and gave him a good smack on the side of his head. "Whattya tryin' ta' play at heah, Boots?" I asked, starting to get a little angry. "Tigah is Tigah an' don' try ta' staiht nothin'."

"Alrigh', alrigh'!" Boots rubbed his head, wincing at the pain. "I was jes' messin' around, Race..."

"Well, it wadn't funny!"

I guess he was too scared that I would soak him because he didn't say a word after that. I felt kind of bad about that but it was still out-of-line. I mean, no one says that..Unless...

I pushed those ideas out of my mind as we made it across the bridge and over to the docks, watching the darkening sky above us. As we made it over to the loading docks, I immediately spotted two people lying on the boards.

"Tigah?" I called out. I saw a familiar head pop up followed by...Spot Conlan?

"'ey Race," he answered, sitting up and grinning as us two walked up to them. "You got poifected 'Findin' Tigah' power oih somthin' by now oih wha'?"

I thought I noticed a small shiver but ignored it. "I toight this was wheah you'se was gonna be since ya like runnin' off so much."

Tiger shrugged. "Jes' felt like vistin' the ol' dock here." The next shiver didn't go unnoticed.

"Didja really go swimmin' in yer clothes, Tigah?" Boots asked, resisting a laugh.

"'ey it wadn't my fault," Tiger held his hands up in a fake surrender. "It wadn't exactly a voluntary swim, awlright?"

"If 'e could've actually kept 'is 'ead above watah." Spot mumbled, lying back down and covering his face with his cap.

"Tiger can't swim?" Boots asked, laughing loudly.

"Wha'? Is it madatoiy foah awl newsboys ta' know how ta' swim?" Tiger barked back, throwing his wet cap at the laughing Newsie. "Foist, sell papes den second, swim wid fish?" He shook as he sniffled loudly.

"Calm da cannons, Tigah," I said, trying to calm him down. "We's jes' havin' some laughs heah."

"It ain' some laughs when you'se holdin' onta' pillahs foah ya life, Race."

I attempted to pull him up to his feet. "C'mon, Tigah," I said. "Let's jes' go home, awlrigh'?"

"Back owf, Race!" He yelled, pulled his hands back, sitting back down next to Spot. "I'll com eback when I'se ready ta' come back."

"Geez, kid. Is dis abou' tha' goil from dis mornin'? She went home. Jes' c'mon." I started to plead with him. "Let's jes' go home."

"Dis ain' 'bout nothin, Race." Tiger sniffled again. "An' wheah is home, anyways?"

Boots tried to be helpful but it was just a lost cause. "C'mon, Ti-"

"Y'know wha'?" I said, interrupting him since my I felt a little heated as well. "Don' come home, den. I swears dat chyer actin' like-"

"Like wha, Race?" Tiger demanded. "Like an idiot?"

"Like a goil! So when you'se decide ta' grow up, den come back." I turned to leave before I had something else to say. "If yer welcome. I might get use ta' havin' me own bed now dat chyou ain' deah, cryin' and screamin' awl night."

The look on his face was...I couldn't even describe the anger even if I wanted to. "Fine! I'll stay in Brooklyn if I ain' welcome wid chyou. See ya, guys."

Without another word, Boots and I walked away and back towards the bridge in silence.

"Y'know," Boots said, unsure if it was the right time to say anything. "If I didn' know Tiger any bettah, I'd say you hurt 'im a little bit."

I let out a Bronx cheer. "Not like he didn' hoit me foist."

We walked the rest of the way back to Manhattan in silence before going our separate ways.

A/N: Short and didn't really contribute to the plot but I had to get Tiger to stay in Brooklyn somehow and we hadn't seen Racetrack in awhile. Still working on this story and I'll definitely try to update regularly. We're about ¼ of the way done and in the next couple of chapters, we'll be getting into the infamous Newsie Strike so stay tuned! -Fox


	18. One of the Firsts

Chapter 18: One of the Firsts

A/N: The last chapter wasn't that great but I _promise_ that this one is better. Enjoy! Disney owns everything, I have a laptop.

_Tiger_

As Race and Boots left in a hurry, I finally let out the breath I didn't even realize I had been holding.

"What was dat 'bout?" Spot asked, going back to stare up at the now darkened sky.

I shrugged. "I jes' felt like pickin' a fight a soihts, I guess. Why should _you_ care?"

"Don' seem like the type."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, lying down, looking at his profile. "An' what 'type' would'ja cawl me, Brooklyn?"

He turned his head to face me, staying silent as he looked into my eyes and gave me his usual, smart-aleck smirk. "You don' wanna heah it."

"Why?" I sat up and glared daggers down at him. "Ya scaihed I'll soak ya good dis time if ya try ta' rattle me?"

"Yeah, I'd like ta' see you try ta' soak me, Tigah," he let out a little chuckle as he didn't lessen his gaze. "'member last time?"

I reached up to touch my healing bruises, attempting to hide any idea that Spot had me there. Unfortunately, he saw right through it. "Yeah...an' I ain' afraid ta' soak ya again, kid."

"Who you cawlin' 'kid,' chump?" I curled my hands into fists but refused to bring them up to smash his face in good, giving him the satisfaction that he got to me. I mean, _thought_ he was getting to me.

Spot scoffed at my already angry state. "Fine, ya wanna heah it?"

"Ya'knwo what, Spot? I don' need ta' heah it 'cause I know who I am and I know who people like you'se aih!

"Guys like you aih so flippin' predictable, y'know dat? Ya staih atta guy ta' death, bring out awl 'is faults dat 'e sees in 'imself, an' when 'e's down on 'is luck, feelin' like nothin', ya take advantage an' oidah 'im around 'cause dat's all you'se guys know how ta' do. Dat's 'ow you'se feel bettah 'bout yerselves."

"Oh yeah?" Spot asked, sitting up, now eye-level with me. "Ya know what chyou are?" He lowers his voice and moves closer. "You ain' nothin' but a scaihed, helpless, liddle goil."

The blood in my veins suddenly runs cold. Before I answer, he continues. "Ya t'ink you hide it well, an' ya do, but I can see right t'rough you. Ya hid it well, Tigah, but not well enough. From the moment we met, I knew I had me doubt 'bout chyou. Ya got too angry, too defensive." He broke our eye contact and looked down at my body for only a second and then back up to me. "Gauze, I'm guessin', righ'? Can take owf a shirt widdout raisin' suspicion."

I attempted to swallow any saliva left in my mouth but it was like it was all dried out. "When," I cleared my throat. "When did'ja really know?"

"When I rescued you'se from undah the dock, I, uh, _felt _somethin'. Somethin' that ain' usually deah wid regular newsboys." He moved his hand to brush against my side, feeling the usual cloth from under my still wet shirt. I smacked his hand away and he pulled back, raising his hands in mock defense.

"Wha's gonna happen den, Spot?"

"Do'ya mean, am I gonna tell them?" he waited for my nod before continuing. "Nah, I'll leave dat ta' you when ya feel like tellin' them," he raised a finger to stop me from interrupting. "But, we'll make a deal, jes' between you an' me."

"I ain' askin' ya ta' leave Manhattan. God knows Jacky boy would flip 'is lid if 'e found out I was blackmailin' to leave the boys. I'se askin' you ta' come ovah to Brooklyn moih often."

I was suspicious of what he was asking. "An' do what, exactly?"

"Jes'...be yerself. No games, no secrets, no lies. Jes'...be the Tigah you aih. No pretend, no woihes 'bout playin' the paiht of newsboy."

I eyed him, unsure of what to make of this. For once, it was almost like he was sincere about this. Almost. "How am I supposed ta' trust you?"

"You just...aih. If you want, that is." Spot sighed. "Look, I ain' gonna tell Cowboy. I'm leavin that to you. Ya spent yer whole life pretendin' ta' be dis boy an'...I'm givin' you the chance ta' jes' be. Take it oih leave it."

I stayed silent, letting the Brooklyn King's words run through my head. "Awlrigh', but any funny biddness an' I'll take yer cane an' beat ya ovah the head wid it meself, got it?"

Spot went back to his usual smirk. "Crystal."

I nodded, not resisting another shiver, now due to the cold and the fact that I was still wet.

"Need some clothes, Tigah?" I nodded furiously, allowing Spot to roll his eyes. "C'mon, you can borrow some 'a mine."

We both got up and walked the short distance to the Brooklyn boy's warehouse, wading through the boys and their games and liquors and whatever else we could see or imagine. When we walked up the stairs, to a door down a short hallway, Spot pulled out his key necklace and unlocked the door, letting me walk in before him before closing it behind us.

Looking around, I gave out a low whistle. "So, this is the infamous Spot Conlon's room." I nodded in appreciation. "Cowboy sleeps in the same room as us guys."

"Cowboy ain' got authoitiy like meself ovah heah." Putting his cane down on the table next to the door, Spot walked over to the big trunk at the end of his modest bed and pulled out a shirt and pants, throwing over his side in my direction. "Now, I ain' gonna look if that's what'cha gonna ask next so jes'...get dressed."

I chuckled. "Do goilies give Mr. Spot Conlon the wilies?" I started unbuttoning my shirt.

"Not like you'se evah gonna believe me but I do like ta' try ta' be respectable around ladies, Tigah."

"Ladies?" I looked around the room, turning back to Spot. "I dun' see any ladies 'round here, Spot."

Keeping his back turned, I could swaer I heard some sort of smile in his voice as he spoke next. "Mirror's broken."

"Still t'ink ya scaihed." I had unbuttoned my shirt and slid out of it, wincing as I felt a bruise from our last encounter still feel a little tender as the cloth rubbed up against it, my breath hitched for a second.

"What was dat?" he asked, suddenly turned around, looking over at me.

I shrugged. "Jes' one a yer presents, Spot. No woiries."

"Geez, Tigah," he looked at my side, making a small face at the mark. "I didn' mean ta' kick ya so haid. I was jes' teachin' the boys a t'ing oih two." Casting away any modesty issues, he walked over to me, his hand ghosting over my side. "It hoit?"

"The woist is ovah," I answered, looking down at the floor. "Dun' woiy about it."

He moved his hand a little closer, his longest finger barely touching my skin. For a second, I jumped a little but then relaxed as he concentrated on not touching the bruise too much. His hand laid gently on my side, moving up to the cloth that I used to bind myself.

"Does _that _hurt?" he asked quietly, his thumb and his index finger lightly rubbing the cloth together between them.

"Ya get used to it," I mumbled, feeling my skin heat up in response to my feelings about the question. "Don'-don' woiry 'bout it."

Now silent, he slowly moved his hand back down my side, over my hip, before gently pushing me away from him. "Get dressed," he said, turning his back around once more.

I quickly dressed into his warm clothes and we both went back down to the gatherings of the Brooklyn boys, both not mentioning what happened but probably thinking of every second of that encounter.

A/N: A few years and _finally_ someone really knows. What will happen? What is going on between Tiger and the newsboys? Who will be the next to find out? Stick around, Newsies! -Fox


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